


Dear Agony

by burntotears



Series: Myan Prompts [8]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Acute Stress Reaction, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Angst, Betrayal, Character Death, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Geeks, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Mutual Pining, Secrets, Slow Build, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-06 16:17:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4228551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burntotears/pseuds/burntotears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael runs a video game store that Ryan likes to frequent, sometimes for the merchandise, but mostly for the patronage. He and Michael have become friends of a sort who play video games together online and have inside jokes, but they don't really know that much about one another. For instance, Ryan's alter-ego as the hired hitman known as Vagabond is a complete mystery to Michael. But Michael has an alter-ego of his own.</p><p>[<a href="https://8tracks.com/burntotears/the-enemy-within">Listen to the Fanmix</a>]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. we all know how to fake it baby

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from tumblr: it could be gta au, or even an universe where they're hitmen or special ops. michael is nice, cute, an innocent civilian and unattainable if you will; ryan has been a regular at his shop for a few months now so he should know, right? except michael is anything but normal, he might be the new explosives guy geoff has been raving about, or working for the same organization, maybe someone tries to rob his shop and then there's a pool of blood and ryan is a witness?
> 
> Title from Breaking Benjamin's "Dear Agony"

The bell above the door rang as Ryan walked into the store, a smile gracing his face as soon as he saw Michael bent down, stocking games onto a low shelf in the corner.

Michael tilted his head to see the customer, his face lighting up when he recognized who it was. “Ryan!” He jumped up and walked over, extending his hand out for a bro-shake. “Dude, haven’t seen you in a while, how’ve you been?”

“Good, thanks for asking,” Ryan squeezed Michael’s hand tightly before releasing it. “Just been busy… work, y’know?” he shrugged nonchalantly, like Michael knew exactly what he meant. He had no fucking idea.

“Yeah, yeah totally. Oh hey, your game came in a couple of days ago! Let me get it for you.” Michael wandered off behind the counter and into the back room, leaving Ryan alone in the front of the store with a stupid grin on his face. Coming to Michael’s used video game store for the first time had been a whim, but coming back every chance he got after that had been nearly necessity. 

Michael was gorgeous, of course, anyone with two eyes and half a brain could see that. But that wasn’t why Ryan had grown so attached to the curly-haired man. He was so down to earth, so real and raw with his thoughts and opinions - Ryan just found it refreshing in a world where everyone was generally trying to bullshit their way through life.

And when his line of work forced him to lie to everyone about almost every aspect of his life, it was refreshing to find someone who was genuine - to be able to geek out about something as simple as video games.

“Here it is!” Michael announced, coming out from behind the counter to hand the game case to Ryan.

Ryan reached out for it, his hand brushing Michael’s when he took it from the other man, sending static shock up his arm. They both jumped and laughed. When Ryan realized what he was holding, he couldn’t stop himself from gasping. “Dude, no… Michael, this is a special edition. How did you even…”

“Eh, you know me, I’ve got time. Plus, I like a good challenge.” He smirked, clearly pleased with himself, but also happy that Ryan was touched by the extra effort he’d gone to.

Ryan walked up to the cash register, putting the game on the counter and pulling out his wallet. “How much do I owe you?” he asked politely.

Michael pretended like he was thinking about it for a couple of seconds and then said, “For you, man? Forty even.” 

“That’s - Michael, it’s a special edition and you probably had to track it down on eBay… it couldn’t be worth any less than eighty, if not more,” Ryan gaped, looking almost horrified at the offer of a cheap game.

“Who runs the store here, you or me? I get to set the prices and I said forty.” Michael gave Ryan such a stern but adorable look that he couldn’t argue anymore and handed over the money as requested. “So we still on for Friday?”

“Hell yeah,” Ryan replied, probably sounding far too eager.

“Sweet. You have no idea how glad I am that you’re a loser like I am that doesn’t go out on Fridays - it warms my little gaming heart.” 

“Well, just don’t get mad when I murder your ass,” Ryan grinned as he walked out of the store.

 

“What’re we playing tonight?” Ryan said into his headset, lounging on his sofa in his apartment, feeling completely at ease. This was the only place he was himself one hundred percent - gamer, geek, loser - very rich assassin for hire by the highest bidder. 

“Destiny? Or Halo?” Michael responded, crunching down on something on his end of the line. “I think Ray will be on a little later too.”

“That’s BrownMan, right?” Ryan asked, referring to a gamertag.

“The one and only shockingly caucasian Puerto Rican, yep.” When they were partied up, Michael shoved more chips in his mouth before asking, “Bounties?”

“Sure. We can do Prison if Ray shows up later,” Ryan suggested, sending them to the Reef to collect bounties. Michael laughed suddenly, making Ryan raise an eyebrow.

“Dude, every time I see your gamertag I am just thinking of like, you standing there with a gun pointed at someone’s head being all like, ‘Alright asshole, no funny business, just give me all your milk and nobody gets hurt, y’see?’” Michael cracked up at the end, making Ryan smile.

“What kind of accent is that?” Ryan mused, still grinning.

“I dunno. Like a 50’s New York gangster who does whatever it takes to get the milk. That’s what you are!” 

“I do love milk,” Ryan laughed, shaking his head. He’d taken his original gamertag as his alias so he had to change it to something less conspicuous. Considering he’d never had many friends to play with online, no one knew him by that name anyway. “I suppose ‘Milk Nazi’ is a better thing to be known as than ‘brony’,” he commented offhandedly, a grin on his face as he waited for the impending explosion on the other end of his headset.

It took all of two seconds before Michael was screaming. “ _Fuck you_ , asshole! Ain’t nothing wrong with My Little Pony! It’s a fucking classic, so you can suck my dick, fucker!” 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I was just kidding,” Ryan conceding, laughing heartily. He never laughed as much as he did when he was talking to Michael. It felt good.

“Yeah, you better be,” Michael huffed, clearly perturbed by this argument. “C’mon, you dick, let’s go crush some shit.”

A few hours later Ryan’s phone started ringing in the middle of their Prison of Elders run. 

“Oh shit,” Ryan said. 

“What?” Ray asked. “You down?”

“No, uh… my phone…”

“Ryan, don’t you dare, asshole! We’re almost-!” Michael began.

“Sorry guys, I gotta take this,” Ryan apologized, saying sorry again as he muted his mic and set his controller down, diving for the burner phone on the table. 

As he flipped it open, he cringed, watching Michael get murdered and his own character not long after. “Vagabond.”

“I’ve got a job for you.”

 

Hospitals had no security. It was almost _too_ easy to walk in and walk out without ever being questioned by a single person. 

It was just what Ryan needed to get his job done quickly and get back to groveling at Michael’s feet for fucking off on their PoE run. 

As he stood in the elevator, he wondered what other hitmen were thinking about as they made their way to their targets. Did they think about the rumble in their stomachs or rubbing one out or the guy that they were crushing on that was probably fuming because they’d left mid-game to take a last-minute hit? 

Probably not.

The man he was ordered to kill was currently in recovery from a botched hit a few weeks ago. Rumor has it that Mogar had been ordered to take the high ranking business official out, but he’d been swarmed and only managed to tag the man in the lungs before barely getting out with his life. Needless to say, Ryan would probably be getting more of Mogar’s hits in the near future - he’d either be killed or he’d flee the city and disappear and start up somewhere else with a new identity. It was ruthless work, but it paid well.

He was glad to see that there was only one guard on duty outside of the man’s room and luckier still that he was already dead on his feet. “You look half dead,” Ryan said smoothly, sidling up next to the man, briefly exposing his pistol on the side of his belt before settling his suit jacket back over it carefully. He straightened his tie and leaned against the other side of the door.

The other man squinted at him for a few seconds before sighing. “I feel like it,” he nodded, running a hand through his hair. “You on duty now?” he asked hopefully.

“Sent me here to relieve you,” Ryan nodded, offering a grim smile.

The guard’s professional demeanor vanished and he pushed off the wall instantly. “Thank Christ,” he said and was already headed down the hallway, waving behind him. “Good luck, it’s boring as shit.”

“Thanks,” Ryan replied, nodding as the man turned the corner and was out of sight. It was nearly two a.m. as he glanced up and down the dimly lit corridor before he turned and slipped silently into the target’s hospital room.

The man lay prone on his bed, a tube in his throat as the machines still pumped oxygen in his body to help his damaged lungs. He was sleeping fitfully, hands and legs twitching intermittently. In a way it made Ryan feel a bit better, like he was just putting the poor bastard out of his misery, though in the back of his mind he knew that people as rich as this could get the best medical care available. 

He let his head clear as he pulled out his silenced pistol and placed a towel over the man’s head to cut down on the blood splatter. The man underneath the towel was moving now; he’d woken up, but it didn’t make much of a difference at this point. The Vagabond had his gun pointed at his forehead, completely composed with his finger poised on the trigger. Two seconds later he watched as the towel stained red and brain matter splattered to the floor. The man’s panicked noises turned to jerking movements and then his body stilled completely.

Outside as he pulled out of the parking lot across from the hospital, he called the person back. “Job’s done,” he said easily.

“Good. I knew I could count on you to get it done, Vagabond. I’ll meet you with the money in five,” the smooth voice ended the call and Ryan pulled the skull mask from his glovebox to meet the bastard and collect the night’s pay.

By the time he made it back to the apartment and washed up, Michael was no longer online, though he should’ve expected that. He texted him a quick apology and vowed to go to the store in the morning to offer an actual apology in person.

 

Ryan had good instincts. Murdering people for a living sort of demanded it. So when he arrived at Michael’s store in the morning and was already on edge, he knew something wasn’t right. The door was open, but no one was in the store, not even Michael. 

“Hello?” he asked tentatively, not raising his voice too loudly. He walked forward toward the counter, his hand on his hip where his gun was hidden; he knew better than to leave his apartment without it. It wasn’t until he was nearly at the register that he saw it - blood pooling from behind the counter. 

Panic filled him as he rushed around it to find a face he didn’t recognize lying lifeless on the floor, a buckshot embedded in the man’s chest where the blood was congealing. Ryan only spared him a few seconds before hurrying into the back of the store, his heart pounding in his ears.

“Michael?” he asked, louder now, eyes darting around for the curly-haired man. He found him in the back room, hunched on the floor, holding a towel against his right arm. “ _Shit_ , are you alright?” Ryan couldn’t keep the relief from his voice at finding Michael alive, even if he was worse for wear.

Michael tried to grin, a grimace forming on his face instead. “Dude, never been better!” he joked lamely. 

“What the fuck, Michael?” Ryan asked, pushing the towel into Michael’s arm and looking him seriously in the eyes.

“Dude didn’t like it very much when I told him I wasn’t going to give him the money, is all,” Michael said nonchalantly, shrugging and then grunting at the pain. “Had to defend myself. Think I’m gonna run a store in this town and not own a gun?” Michael looked over at the shotgun next to him.

Ryan didn’t say anything as he mulled it over. He was about ninety percent certain Michael was lying to him, but _why_? “We need to get you to the hospital and get that stitched up,” Ryan said slowly, lifting the towel from Michael’s arm to see a fresh bout of blood flow from Michael’s gunshot wound. 

Michael’s face went even more pale. “I-I don’t really want to go to a hospital. I mean… look, it’s not _that_ bad, really…” he gestured at the freely bleeding wound.

Ryan balked. “You can’t be serious. Michael, you could bleed out if you don’t get that taken care of.”

“I just… I don’t really like hospitals, okay? They charge too much and I know how to take care of a bullet wound, man. I’ve dealt with them before, I know what to do…” Michael’s voice was quivering over his words. It could be from the blood loss, but Ryan didn’t think so.

“You’ve been shot before?” Ryan asked skeptically. He started looking for a first aid kit since he didn’t seem to be convincing Michael of anything anytime soon.

“We went hunting a lot when I was a kid,” Michael explained, his voice steady, but Ryan was observant. He had to be. Michael was lying, but Ryan didn’t know why. He had to press him.

“At least let me help you. I can call the police; you need to report the robbery and the body.”

Michael made another noise of dissent.

“What now?” Ryan sighed, finding the first aid kit in a cupboard. He hadn’t even asked Michael if he could go through his things and Michael seemed too distracted to care anyway. He sat down in front of the younger man and emptied the contents of the kit to assess their supplies. “You have to report it, Michael, or you’ll be charged with murder.”

“I just don’t think-” he started, but Ryan shook his head.

“You don’t think that following the law is a good idea?” Ryan asked, eyebrow cocked. He looked Michael in the face pointedly. “What’s going on, Michael? Why are you lying to me? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

The younger man sighed, breaking eye contact and looking at his lap. “I can’t get you involved, Ryan. It’s complicated. Just… you should go, okay? Thank you for helping me, but I can take care of myself.” 

“I never said you couldn’t. But obviously you’ve got some shit going on and I’m not leaving until you tell me what it is.” Ryan was stubborn, maybe he and Michael hadn’t hung out enough for the younger man to know that about him, but he would learn now. Ryan pushed Michael’s hand away and took over putting pressure on his arm. He couldn’t tell in the mess of red if there was an exit wound or not.

Michael looked at him again. “Ryan, this isn’t a fucking game, okay? This is serious shit. That guy tried to kill me; people want me dead. You can’t get involved; I need you to fucking leave. _Now_. Don’t fucking argue with me. I’m in deep shit and I gotta take care of it, so just go. _Please_ , dude.” 

“Your faith in my abilities is a little disheartening,” Ryan said, not budging. “I can take care of myself too, believe it or not. What did you get yourself into, Michael? Do you owe somebody money? Is it drugs? I can help you. Was there an exit wound?” he indicated at Michael’s arm with a nod of his head.

The curly-haired man was stunned for a moment, nodding stupidly. “It grazed my side, I felt it come out,” he said dumbly.

“Good, then let’s stop the bleeding and get you something to drink. You got any pop around here?” Ryan looked around quickly before remembering the machine out front with soda in it. “One sec.” He retrieved a few sodas from the machine and also locked the front door before returning to Michael’s side. “Drink this and tell me what the problem is.” 

The towel was soaking through so Ryan tugged his shirt over his head and replaced the towel, tying the shirt around Michael’s arm securely. “I fucked up. I botched a job and I tried to give the money back but it was high profile shit and now they want me dead and I’m _fucked_...”

To Ryan’s credit, it probably took him less time than most to put the pieces together, though he still felt like he should have figured it out sooner. “You can’t be fucking… _you’re_ Mogar?”

Michael looked like he was going to faint. He jolted violently, pushing out against Ryan as he reached for his gun. “The _fuck_? Who _are_ you?” Michael narrowed his eyes, shotgun pointed into Ryan’s chest.

“Whoa, dude, calm down. I’m not here to kill you. I just figured it out! I thought you were a video game store owner!” Ryan held his hands up.

“How do you know that name?” Michael asked, not lowering the gun.

“They hired me to finish your botched job,” Ryan said quietly, not looking Michael in the face anymore.

He could hear the disbelief leaving Michael’s mouth in a breathy noise. “But… they said that - I heard that Vagabond did it, l-last night while we were playing… when you got a phone call and then left…” Realization was slowly filling the younger man’s face as he stared at Ryan, his eyes wide and confused. “But you’re so-so _polite_.” He said the last like he was disgusted by it.

Ryan’s brows knit together. “What does that mean?”

“Just that… you’re so nice and so _normal_.”

“And you aren’t?” Ryan challenged.

“I’m a piece of shit,” Michael said truthfully. 

“So am I,” Ryan agreed, sounding a bit sad. “How did they find you, Michael?”

“I-I don’t know, no one knows who I am. I’ve never told anyone, you’re the first person…” he groaned. “You really didn’t know?”

“I had no idea. I thought Mogar had already been taken out or left town already. What the fuck were you _thinking_? Why are you still here?” The concern couldn’t be more evident in his tone.

“No one knew who I was! Who would suspect Michael Jones? I had a fucking second career, perfect cover, I shouldn’t’ve been found out!” He groaned, banging his head on the wall behind him.

“Fucking _think_ , Michael. You fucked up somewhere, someone got the information. When? _Who?_ ”

Michael was quiet for a while, closing his eyes with his head tilted back against the wall as he thought. Ryan watched him closely, eying the small freckles adorning his neck, trying to distract himself from thinking about Michael’s damn face and failing miserably. 

“Ray,” Michael blurted, eyes shooting open as he stared at Ryan in horror.

“What about him?”

“I-I let him come to my place once. We fucked a few times, I didn’t think… that was months ago, though…” Michael looked stricken, knowing he had really screwed up. “He must’ve found one of my burners, it’s the only way he would’ve figured it out, he’s the only person who’s ever been at my apartment…”

Ryan knew that all this information was important, that they had what they needed to go forward, but he was stuck on one fact. “So you, uh… you’re into guys then?”

Michael’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “ _Really_? You wanna do this _right now_ , Ryan?” 

“Right, right, sorry. C’mon, you can lie low at my place and we’ll come up with a plan.” He started to help Michael up from the floor. “You’re a fucking idiot by the way, you know that, right?”

“I’m gonna punch you so hard when I get my strength back, asshole,” Michael replied, nearly falling over as he was stood up on his feet, Ryan taking on most of his weight.


	2. you had to have it all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry sorry, it got longer than I expected, I'm going to extend it to three chapters, guys. Hope you enjoy the angst. :D

Ryan tried his best not to fret around Michael as they settled in his apartment, but the lightheadedness the other man was experiencing was not helping his resolve. He managed to put on another shirt and stop walking around half-naked then gathered some towels to change the dressing on Michael’s arm. The shirt had soaked through, but when he removed it he noticed the blood flow had stanched for the most part. “It looks better,” he admitted, wrapping up the wound again. “When it stops bleeding I can stitch it for you.”

Michael grinned dorkily at him, leaning heavily against the back of his couch. “You’re one of those hen-peckers, aren’t you?”

“What?” Ryan asked sharply.

“You know, the worrying type. The ones that run around worrying about every little thing. ‘Did I do that right? Have I said the wrong thing? Is he gonna die on my couch?’ Those types.” Michael’s nonchalant attitude at the last only served to raise Ryan’s anxiety two-fold.

“I hardly consider someone _dying_ on my sofa as ‘no big deal’, you dick,” he snapped back, trying to find some food to refuel Michael from all the blood loss. He found an orange and cut it up and brought him a bottle of water.

“Yet you murder people for a living,” Michael countered, taking the orange and eating it without question. He really should know better, but then, he was pretty fucking out of it, so Ryan would cut him a break in the common sense department for the moment. Though it was a lack of common sense that had him in his current predicament to begin with.

“Not in my fucking _home_ ,” Ryan shot back, surprised at how worked up he was getting. He was anxious as it was and apparently having Michael here was making him more uncomfortable than he would have thought. Why had he offered to bring him here? This was his sacred space, the only place he had to truly be himself and the only place he was safe and he’d just brought all of Michael’s shit upon himself without thinking twice about it. 

What was that about common sense again?

“Hey, I need Ray’s number,” Ryan declared suddenly, his brain working quickly. He gave Michael a piece of paper and a pen as he dialed a number on a random burner phone. “Gavino, hey, I need some help.”

“Vagabond! How’s it hanging, mate? What can I do you for?” the friendly British voice trilled across the other end of the line.

“I’ve got a couple of numbers I need to text you. Can you trace them for me, give me any information you can on them? Specifically if they were ever in contact in the past few days?” Ryan took the proffered paper Michael handed him.

“Sure, send ‘em over. Give me an e-mail address and I’ll send you all the info you could ever want,” the hacker replied, always happy to comply. For a fee, of course.

“Great, I’ll wire you the money. Thanks, man.” 

“Cheers. It’s always a pleasure doing business with you.” 

When he hung up, Ryan typed in Ray’s phone number then picked up the burner he’d received a call from last night, punching that number in as well. When he’d texted Gavino one of his many e-mail addresses for retrieval, he put all of the devices back on the coffee table, feeling like some progress had been made.

“I’ll pay him,” Michael said solemnly. “It’s my mess, you’ve already stepped too far into my shit, Ryan.” The giggly, light headed idiot from earlier seemed to have taken a raincheck for a more somber model.

“That was my choice,” Ryan replied, rubbing his face as he leaned forward on the couch.

“Yeah, and you’re pretty fucking stupid for making it, aren’t you?” Michael said flatly. He wasn’t wrong, though the severity of the statement hit Ryan hard. “Why’d you bring me here? You wanted to end your career along with mine? Did you think it’d be romantic or something?” Michael’s words weren’t even angry, but the bite was felt all the same.

Ryan was on edge already and Michael’s razor sharp tongue wasn’t helping matters. “ _Fuck_ you. I could have left you there to bleed out, you dick. What the fuck is your _problem_?”

“Yeah, well I didn’t _ask_ you to help me, did I? I don’t want your fucking pity, okay?” The bitterness bubbled so thickly inside his mouth that he nearly had to chew it.

“Pity? Who said anything about pity?” Ryan was exhausted. Talking to Michael had never been so difficult before. He wondered if ‘Mogar’ and ‘Michael’ really were two different people. 

Michael rolled his eyes. “Everyone knows who you are, Ryan. The fucking _Vagabond_? Come on, dude, be real here. You feel bad because I’m a dumb little shit who made a rookie fucking mistake and now you can take me under your wing and show me how it _should’ve_ been done and then you’ll somehow slip out of this with your shit intact because that’s what you _do_ and I’ll end up in the gutter because that’s what I deserve for being so fucking careless.” 

Ryan blinked, almost stunned. Sure, Vagabond was good at what he did, but he didn’t know that people talked about him enough that he was considered some sort of veteran at the craft. And underneath all that spiteful sarcasm, it sounded as if Michael might actually admire the Vagabond. He shook his head, meeting Michael’s brown eyes. “I helped you because you’re my friend, Michael. I would’ve helped you even if I hadn’t figured out you were Mogar, I would’ve helped you even if I wasn’t the Vagabond. I don’t give a fuck that you messed up - we _all_ do. You think I haven’t?” he laughed derisively. 

Ryan could read the disbelief all over Michael’s face. “Bullshit. When have you _ever_ fucked up a hit? You’re a fucking ghost, Ryan, no one has ever come close to figuring out who you are and you don’t even have a cover for yourself, you’re just _good_. I would’ve never figured it out if you hadn’t spelled it out for me.”

“This isn’t my first city, Michael. No one’s that good.” He lifted his pant leg to show the scar from a bullet that had embedded in the back of his calf. He dropped it and then lifted the hem of his shirt, plucking down the edge of his pants to show a gnarly looking scar on his left hip, a loving reminder of his own stupidity when he was nearer Michael’s age. “I fell in love too once,” he said simply before dropping his shirt with clouded blue eyes. He didn’t like thinking about it. The memory of Joel still haunted him some nights, though his mental health was better than it had once been.

Michael’s face scrunched up. “Love? What are you talking about?”

“I let someone get close, I thought he loved me but when he found out who I was, that people would pay for me to disappear…” Ryan gestured at his side where the knife scar resided.

The younger man’s eyes were wide, filled with surprise. He looked like Michael again, open and real, not the closed-off mask he’d been wearing since his senses came back. It eased some tension in Ryan’s chest. “Did you kill him?”

Ryan nodded solemnly. “I didn’t mean to but he wouldn’t relent...” 

“I’m not in love with Ray,” Michael blurted, his cheeks tinging pink. “It wasn’t about that. I was - _fuck_ it’s so _stupid_ -” the brunette brushed his hand through his curls, cursing, shaking his head in shame. “I was fucking _lonely_ , I just wanted to be with someone. I’ve known Ray since high school and it was the easiest thing to fall into after I met-” 

Ryan raised an eyebrow when the other man cut off, not able to look him in the face. 

“It was just the easiest thing for me and he was up for it, so we fucked a few times. I knew better, we never even hung out at my place, but I got so drunk one night and he offered to take me home and I just brought him in, I didn’t think twice about it, I’m such a fucking idiot…” Michael shook his head, grasping at his hair in annoyance.

Ryan placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You’re not. You’re human. Despite what we do, it’s still a part of who we are.”

Michael laughed scornfully. “How? How can you do it? How are you even fucking _sane_? I mean, you’ve been doing this for _years_.” His voice cracked a bit on the next. “I think I’m losing my _mind_.”

There was a laugh that left Ryan’s mouth, but it was dry and bitter in his throat. “What the hell makes you think I’m sane?”

Michael rolled his eyes, looking at Ryan’s face, thinking that he was kidding around. The longer he looked though, the more he seemed to realize that Ryan wasn’t joking. He’d never been more serious about anything. “But… you’re totally normal.”

“You don’t know me very well,” Ryan deadpanned. His computer dinged and he jumped at the interrupting sound. “That’s probably the info from Gavino.” Ryan walked over to the neatly arranged desktop and snagged his laptop, sitting down on the sofa next to Michael and downloading the information from the dropbox link.

He started to wade through the files quickly, eyes darting over phone records and text messages sent from Ray’s phone and the burner number that called him last night. It must have been the same phone they used to give Michael the job because it was the number that Ray texted, stating that he knew Mogar’s identity and wanted to meet to make a trade.

Michael was turning red next to him, the rage boiling silently inside him, though he never said a word.

Ryan stopped scrolling through the pages. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, not looking over.

“Fine,” Michael said tightly. “Good news is that Ray only told the asshole that hired me for the job and since he is sure to want to take care of me for fucking it up, he’s not going to tell anyone about who I am. So I’ve just gotta get him out of the picture and that’ll be that.”

Ryan nodded slowly. “Okay, but what if Ray tells someone else about you?”

“Ray won’t tell anyone else,” Michael replied, his voice unflinching. There was really only one way to assure that, but Ryan wasn’t sure if that was the best resolution for Michael.

He set the laptop on the coffee table. “Let me stitch up your arm.”

 

Michael didn’t want Ryan to go with him, but somehow he finagled his way into coming. It was a mixture of bitching, guilt tripping, and worry that seemed to exasperate Michael enough into conceding. Ryan really just wanted to be there to stop Michael from doing something he’d regret. He may feel betrayed enough right now to want to kill Ray, but Ryan knew what it was like to kill someone he loved, even someone who betrayed him, and he didn’t wish that pain on anyone.

But that didn’t mean that Ray was going to live. 

Michael busted into the other man’s apartment like it was a home invasion; they found Ray on the couch playing video games. According to Michael, that was mostly all he did. 

“What the fu- Michael, what are you doing?” Ray screamed. He was up off the sofa and facing off with them, completely aware that Michael had a gun and it was pointed directly at him.

“You know why I’m here, Ray, cut the shit. I’ve already been shot, I’m not really in the mood to play games,” Michael said sourly, walking forward as Ray continued to take steps backward. Ryan stood in the doorway and observed the scene, all his muscles tense.

Ray opened his mouth, ready to spew more lies, then closed it, obviously thinking better. When he opened it again, he didn’t sound very composed. “Michael, look, I didn’t know what they were gonna do, man, I just thought they would-”

Michael laughed harshly. “Thought they would… what, Ray? Use the information to send me gift baskets? Don’t feign stupidity, asshat, it doesn’t become you.” Michael continued to crowd Ray until he backed into a wall and looked panicked and trapped which was what Michael obviously wanted. He stood an inch in front of him with his gun pressing solidly into his gut. “Who else did you tell about me?”

“What? No one, honest! I don’t even know why I did it! It just seemed like a good way to make some quick cash, I never really thought that…” Ray trailed off, his eyes drifting to Michael’s injured arm and then flicking to Ryan. “What are you gonna do?”

“What I get paid for,” Michael said coldly, shoving the gun more harshly into Ray’s stomach, the anger showing openly on his face.

“Michael, _please_ -” Ray pleaded, looking directly into the other man’s brown eyes.

“Michael,” Ryan said in a low, warning tone.

It was Ryan saying his name that jolted him. Ray’s pleading tone had no effect, but Ryan’s voice sent shivers up his spine and he hesitated, backing up a little, his head clearing some. “ _What_?” he asked, annoyed.

“Don’t do something you’re not going to be able to live with,” Ryan whispered quietly, suddenly right behind him, speaking right into his ear.

Michael jumped at the closeness, cursing himself for not knowing Ryan had moved behind him, for letting himself be taken off guard. “ _Seriously_?” he asked, turning to look at Ryan. “He fucking gave me up. I’ve been friends with this prick for _years_ and he finds out about me in one night, after we’ve _fucked_ , mind you, and decides to fucking name me to some random hire for a few fucking dollars to pad his mattress with. He deserves it.”

Ray was looking back and forth between the two. He hadn’t heard what Ryan had said to Michael, but he could hear Michael’s response just fine. “Michael. Michael, I’m _so sorry_ , honestly, if I’d known they’d try to fucking _kill_ you-”

Ryan raised an eyebrow, putting a hand on Michael’s shoulder and squeezing. “How do you know that?” he asked Ray.

“What?”

“How do you know they tried to kill him?” Ryan asked again, stepping back from Ray and pulling Michael with him.

“I… what? I mean, he got _shot_ , didn’t he? Why else would he have been shot? I just assumed… isn’t that why?” Ray’s cheeks were turning pink.

Michael’s brow furrowed as he looked over at Ryan. The blond man let go of Michael’s shoulder and started searching around the room carefully, narrowing in on the desk in the corner and stalking toward it.

“W-what are you doing?” Ray asked, his voice squeaking slightly. He tried to step forward but Michael was still in front of him with the gun so he didn’t go far.

Ryan ignored him and tore open the drawers, unsurprised when he found a stack of burner phones inside the left drawer. He turned back to Ray and Michael, his face twisted in a cruel smirk. “They didn’t just give you the money for Michael’s identity, did they Ray?”

“I don’t know wha-”

Michael looked confused too, though his was actually genuine. “What’s going on, Ryan?”

“When he met with them, told him the story - that he knew you personally, that you were his best friend and he knew _everything_ about you - they got suspicious. They wanted a guarantee that Ray was both telling the truth and also keeping his trap shut about you. They already knew he was a coward since he hadn’t offered to kill you himself for a reward. So they said that he had to hire the hits himself, _then_ he’d get the money.” 

Michael’s eyes blew wide as he slowly turned from Ryan to Ray, who looked like he was going to piss himself.

“Michael, they didn’t give me a _choice_ , I swear-”

That wasn’t the right answer. 

Michael surged forward, crowding into Ray’s space again and snatched at Ray’s hands, forcing the gun into them, closing his fingers around the metal for him. He lifted their hands, aiming the gun at his own forehead and pressing it painfully into his skull. Ray’s hands were shaking uncontrollably under Michael’s grasp and he was truly crying now. “Michael, _please_ -” His plea was genuine.

“Shoot me, you spineless coward,” Michael whispered harshly, forcing Ray’s finger against the trigger, almost making him pull it.

Ryan wasn’t worried that Ray would shoot, he knew that he couldn’t, but Michael might do it for him. He wasn’t in his right mind. Ryan could remember feeling like that, he could remember almost letting Joel scrape a knife across his throat and end it for him.

Ray shook his head weakly, sobbing now. Michael screamed, a primal, rage-filled roar. “Pull the fucking trigger, you prick!”

Neither of them moved. The front door slammed against the frame, breaking the near silence. A shorter man hauled his way through it with a shotgun in his hands. Ryan’s trigger was pulled before the man could even register what was taking place in the room. He stilled and then slumped to the ground, eyes wide.

The noise broke Michael from his stupor and he jerked away from Ray, yanking the gun from his hands. When he saw the dead man lying behind them he ground his teeth together, shoving the barrel of the gun against Ray’s temple harshly. “How many?”

“What?” Ray asked weakly, cowering under the scrutiny.

“How many did you hire, Ray?”

“F-four. Vagabond wouldn’t take the job,” he spat out quickly.

Michael’s gaze snapped to Ryan’s, eyes dark. The blond just shrugged. “Money wasn’t good enough,” he smirked though it fell quickly. “We’ve got to go, Michael.”

The brunette looked back at the quivering coward in front of him. Ray shivered. “Are you gonna kill me?” he asked weakly.

“Do you want me to?” Michael asked sounding completely sincere.

“No,” Ray breathed.

Michael pulled the trigger.


	3. if i fell down would you pick me up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hurt/comforted and fluffed all over this chapter so I had to make the story longer. My bad. I'm sure you're all very mad about it.

Michael hadn’t said a word since they got back to Ryan’s apartment. Ryan didn’t really expect him to. He had blood and brain matter all over his face and arms and if he looked in the mirror, he’d probably vomit at the sight of himself. It might not have been Michael’s first kill, but it was the first one that _mattered_.

“C’mon,” Ryan said, taking the younger man by the elbow and leading him to his bathroom. He carefully pointed Michael away from the mirror and started tugging his shirt over his head. The other man didn’t say a word; he was staring blankly at the shower in a daze - at that point he would have let Ryan do anything to him. It scared Ryan to have that much control over him, over someone who normally had something to say about every little thing.

Once he’d stripped Michael down, he tugged his own shirt over his head and shucked off his pants but left his boxers on before he started the shower and guided the brunette into the stall, following him inside. Ryan gentled the younger man under the spray, letting the blood spill down the drain. The blond took a bar of soap and washed Michael’s arms and face, then shampooed his hair, carefully making certain that no traces of blood were left behind. 

When his skin was no longer sticky red, Michael took a deep breath, a shiver running up his spine. “I killed my best friend.” He said it like a secret.

“I’m sorry, Michael,” Ryan said, brushing a hand up the man’s back as he combed his fingers through his hair, rinsing out the shampoo. 

“He was so scared and I-” Michael choked on the words as bile rose in his throat and he leaned over the drain. Ryan held onto his hips reactionally so he didn’t fall over. Michael wiped his mouth with his arm, looking back at Ryan. “You didn’t stop me.”

The older man shook his head, stepping back and releasing Michael’s hips carefully, calculating the other man’s steadiness. “You wouldn’t have let me.”

“No,” Michael consented, knowing it was true. He knew how Ryan had felt about it, knew that Ryan didn’t want Michael to kill Ray, but he’d still stood back while Michael did it anyway. Did that make him an asshole? Or a person who refused to make other people’s decisions for them? He shivered and then Ryan’s hands were on his shoulders, leading him out of the shower and toweling him off.

Sure, Michael could’ve done it himself, but he had to admit that it felt nice to have someone else take care of him for once. He let his mind blank and just let Ryan do whatever he would, which only amounted to drying him off and putting him in a pair of pajama bottoms that were too long for him.

“Do you want to try to eat something?” Ryan asked him, forcing Michael to focus in his face. 

“Don’t think I can,” Michael admitted.

“Drink?” Ryan asked cautiously.

It would be nice to become numb, but he probably wouldn’t be able to keep that down either. “Water,” he said and saw Ryan visibly decompress. He actually found himself smiling a little as he sat on the couch, his eyes going in and out of focus looking at nothing.

Ryan sat down next to him and handed him a bottle of water and some pills. “You should take these.” He didn’t offer any other information about them and Michael didn’t ask, he just tossed them back which made the blond frown at him.

“Do you trust me?” Ryan asked bluntly.

Michael blinked, his brow furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I trust you?”

“I kill people for a living, for starters. Someone tried to hire me to murder you.”

Michael’s face soured at that. “When did he call you?” 

“Last night, around two a.m.”

The younger man blew out a slow breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Ryan shrugged. “It didn’t seem relevant. Unless I was actually planning to kill you. Then I would’ve given you a heads up, at the very least.”

A bark of laughter shoved its way out of Michael’s throat at the absurdity of that statement. “Uh, thanks, man. But seriously, why did you say no?”

The blond tilted his head, looking Michael pointedly in the eyes. “Do you really think I’d kill you, Michael?”

“No. Which is why I know I don’t have to worry about you handing me pills and food,” he replied smugly.

“Touché.” They remained quiet for a while, sitting next to each other on the sofa, staring forward at the blank television screen, listening to one another breathe. Ryan finally asked, “What if he’d said ‘yes’?”

Michael inhaled sharply. “I would’ve killed him.” He blinked, his mind heavy and his limbs heavier. He tipped his head onto Ryan’s shoulder without even thinking twice about it. “I know… I know that they didn’t give him a choice, that if he didn’t agree to do it, they probably would’ve killed him, but if he wanted to back out for real, if he had second thoughts about fucking me over, then he would’ve taken the chance anyway. If he was truly remorseful, he would’ve said ‘no deal’, or he would’ve agreed to do it and then told me about what they’d asked him to do so that I’d be prepared and we could laugh about it later, y’know?

“He was too chicken shit to face me and he was hoping they’d kill me before he ever had to again. And if I hadn’t killed him, he would’ve told them about you too and I wouldn’t allow that to happen.”

“You don’t have to look after me, Michael,” Ryan said quietly, his breathing slightly erratic from the younger man resting so casually against him. He could smell the shampoo from Michael’s hair; it was nearly deafening.

Michael shrugged, tilting his head on Ryan’s shoulder until he was able to see his face. “You don’t have to look after me either, but you are. I’ve fucked up, done some pretty careless shit lately, but all you’ve done is try to help me clean it all up and keep my ass alive. I owe you a lot.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Ryan replied, staring down into Michael’s face, feeling almost breathless. How the hell could this man make him feel so anxious? His stomach was turning to knots, his hands were shaking.

The brunette covered Ryan’s hand with his own, trying to still the twitching. “I owe you _a lot_ , Ryan, but I owe you the most for keeping me grounded. I would’ve killed myself along with Ray if you hadn’t been there with me.”

Ryan took a heaving breath. “I know. That’s why I wanted to be there.” 

Michael chewed his lip. “You didn’t want me to kill him though.”

“No, I didn’t,” Ryan said honestly.

“Why didn’t you stop me? Why didn’t you do it yourself?” Michael asked, squeezing Ryan’s hand. It was still shaking so Michael laced his fingers with Ryan’s and started to brush his thumb over Ryan’s wrist.

Ryan shook his head, looking down at their hands in his lap. He felt like he was going to hyperventilate, yet he couldn’t stop himself from talking. Even though Michael’s closeness seemed to make him anxious, it also made him calm. How the fuck did that make any sense? “It was your choice to make, not mine. I didn’t want you to experience the hell that I’d gone through, but taking that decision from you could have been more detrimental than what you are feeling right now. I want to help you, but destroying something you cared about wouldn’t have helped you at all.”

Michael was staring at him in something akin to awe. “How are you so smart?”

“I’m not?” Ryan blinked, his cheeks tinging pink. “I’m sorry my uh…” He lifted their interlocked hands a bit in indication. “I haven’t really been close to anyone in a while.”

“Do you want me to back off?” Michael asked earnestly. 

“No, I just… need to get used to it again. It’s not just that, though, I’m still worried about you.” 

Michael nodded. “I know. What did you give me?”

“Anti-anxiety.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” His nerves weren’t buzzing in his ears like they had been on the ride to the apartment. He felt lighter, like he was floating just over a deep, dark hole. Ryan’s voice smoothed in and out of his ears. “Can I stay with you?”

“Of course; you can’t go home.”

“No, I mean… can I sleep with you? In your bed? I just need to be near you.” 

“Oh.” Ryan was struck dumb, like the concept of someone sleeping in his bed had never occurred to him before.

Michael blushed and looked away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s okay, I can stay on the couch again.”

Ryan shook his head vigorously. “No. No, I was just surprised is all. Of course you can stay with me, Michael, whatever you need. I just feel like… I just need to be upfront with you about something first.”

“Okay?”

“I’ve liked you for a long time. You’re a great friend and I never want to lose that friendship, but I’ve always seen you as more. I’ve always wanted to be _with_ you.” That had to be the most clinical way of telling him that. He was such an asshole.

Michael’s mouth fell open. “Wha - seriously? You’re into me?”

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Dude, no. I figured you just saw me as some kid.”

Ryan snorted. “Thanks for making me feel old.”

“Shit! No, I didn’t mean that. Yeah, you’re older than me, but that doesn’t matter to me. You’re smarter than I am, obviously, and you’ve been through more and shit, but that’s not a bad thing. At least, I don’t think so. I figured you would though, that’s why I never bothered to even…” Michael trailed off, blushing.

“Never bothered to what?” Ryan asked, still confused.

“Ryan, I’ve been into you since you first walked into my store, spouting all that PC master race bullshit that went way over my head, I mean, _c’mon_ , dude. I always looked forward to you coming into the store and playing games with you; you’re freaking awesome!” 

The older man blinked, completely taken aback.

“Well, then there was the fact that I am a hitman and that’s not usually something you can share with someone. I didn’t want to get you involved in that world; it was easier to try and ignore it all.” Michael’s rationale was so similar to Ryan’s it was laughable to think that they’d been silently giving themselves the same reasons not to get involved with one another when they were both instilled in the same criminal escapades.

“That’s why I couldn’t ask you out,” Ryan confessed, laughing a little. “You were _supposed_ to be innocent.”

Michael laughed, feeling it fill his chest with genuine happiness. “Did I disappoint you?”

“Not in the slightest,” Ryan replied seriously, a sweet smile on his face as he looked at the other man.

 

The medicine Ryan gave Michael knocked him out pretty quickly and he slept for about two solid hours before the dreams started to twist into a darkness he didn’t want to enter. Sick images of Ray swam in and out of his consciousness and eventually he woke sobbing and shaking in Ryan’s bed, completely unaware of where he even was. 

He felt an arm circle around his waist and pull him back until he was solidly tucked against a chest. Ryan was breathing into his hair from behind and Michael clung to the natural ebb and flow of it, desperate to match his own erratic breaths to his bed partner's. The brunette clutched Ryan’s hand with a vicegrip, tugging it up his chest where he could hug Ryan’s arm beneath both his own.

“I’ve got you,” Ryan whispered. “I’ll help you, I promise. Just don’t give up on me, Michael.”

For some reason the words left Michael breathless, like he’d been punched in the stomach. He just nodded and curled even closer to Ryan, trying to leech off his warmth.

 

He stayed in bed for almost three days. Ryan wasn’t going to rush him; this wasn’t an easy thing to deal with. Regardless of any betrayal that took place, killing someone that close to you took its toll. Michael did get some sleep eventually; Ryan gave him some meds that knocked him unconscious for almost half a day, giving the blond plenty of time to research the bastard who had put all of this into motion in the first place.

Whoever it was that had first hired Michael, then subsequently Ryan to finish the job, who was now hunting for Michael’s head - he was going to die. Ryan would make certain of that. Gavino was gracious enough to help him out (for a reduced price even) when he heard about the situation.

“Of course I’ll help! I like Mogar! He sent me sweets from home a couple of times when he had to pop across the pond for business. He yells a lot but he’s a lovely lad. I’ll get you this bastard’s name, just give me a couple of days.”

True to his word, Gavino contacted him a little under two days later. “His name is Geoff Ramsey. The man he hired you to kill, Burnie Burns, was a business competitor of his. They used to be mates, started a company together, but creative differences brought them at odds and they ended up splitting the company apart, each going in a different direction with his piece. They were amicable with one another afterward until a few months ago when Burns recruited one of Ramsey’s most valued employees, Jack Pattillo, into his own fold. It was a betrayal that Ramsey couldn’t seem to let slide.”

Ryan took a minute to let that information sink in before he asked, “So what about Ramsey? What’s he like?”

“He’s off his bloody nut, mate, I’d be careful if I were you. I know he hires people to kill for him, but I’m beginning to think he only does it because he’s lazy, not because he isn’t capable of it. The two hitmen you already killed? Matt Bragg and Jeremy Dooley. They both worked for Ramsey and weren’t even professionals, just a couple of muscle men he forced to answer when Ray called.” Gavino made a noise of distaste. “He seems pretty unhinged, Vagabond.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Ryan said. “Send me his address, would you?”

Gavino sighed. “Try not to die, you’re one of my favorite customers.”

When he hung up, he went back to check on Michael again. He was sitting up in the bed, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “How are you feeling?” Ryan asked cautiously, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to him.

“Like I’ve been in bed for a week,” the brunette mumbled, blinking heavily. “You got my glasses? I can’t see shit.” Ryan handed the other man the frames and watched him shove them onto his face. “What have you been doing this whole time? You haven’t been sitting there watching me sleep have you? Creepy fucker.”

A grin pressed on Ryan’s mouth. Michael sounded more like himself, more easy. It wasn’t like he was going to forget what had happened, but at least he seemed to have accepted it now. Acceptance was the hardest step for Ryan. “Do you need me to get you anything, whiny bitch?” Ryan asked affectionately, making the younger man laugh.

“Yeah I’m starving, you got any food in this trash heap?” 

“That’s a step too far, Jones. My place is immaculate,” Ryan chided good-naturedly. He didn’t realize that his hand was resting on Michael’s blanket-clad knee, like that was completely natural. It _felt_ natural.

“No shit, dude, it’s fucked up. Who has time to clean like this?”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Everyone who isn’t a lazy asshole, I guess.”

Michael blinked a couple of times, grinning. “You _are_ a piece of shit.”

“Glad that it pleases you?” Ryan half stated and half asked. He stood and offered his hand to help Michael out of bed.

“Oh, I’m _pleased_ , Ryan, don’t you worry about that,” Michael smirked, taking Ryan’s hand and hauling himself out of the bed on shaky legs. He stumbled forward a little and Ryan held onto his waist to steady him.

“You good?” the blond asked quietly, looking down at Michael. His heart was beating quickly in his chest. He felt like he was right in Michael’s face and yet miles away at the same time. He had to be blushing, this was so stupid.

“Uh huh,” the other man responded, leaning further into Ryan, blinking slowly. “So… you gonna kiss me or are we just gonna stand around here like dumbasses?” 

Ryan’s face felt even hotter. “I-I… well... it’s not like I don’t _want_ to…” he trailed off, feeling like an idiot.

“Not seeing the downside of this?” Michael prodded. He looked pretty smug.

“It doesn’t seem like the right time, I guess? A lot of shit going on and I don’t want to rush anything here.” He wanted to crawl into the floor and let it devour him whole. Michael had to think he was an idiot. He’d probably change his mind about liking Ryan the more he got to know him. It was probably for the best.

“Holy shit!” Michael pressed his hand flat against Ryan’s chest, a crooked grin on his face. “You’re a fucking sap! You’re a goddamn _romantic_ sap, aren’t you?”

The older man frowned slightly. “I’m a _gentleman_.”

Michael’s smile was genuine now. “Hell yeah you are. Now get in the kitchen and make me a sandwich, _gentleman_.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, stepping back and taking Michael’s hand into his own as he pulled it away from his chest. “You were right. You definitely are a piece of shit.”

“Oh I know.”


	4. dig me up from under what is covering the better part of me

“Well I mean, there’s only two more guys out there, right?” Michael asked, still nibbling on his peanut butter sandwich. He hadn’t been eating much and while it wasn’t surprising, it was starting to worry Ryan. He wasn’t throwing everything up (he’d stopped that a couple of days ago), but that didn’t seem to give him any sort of a decent appetite either. 

“Yeah, but also Ramsey,” Ryan commented, wondering if he should even be talking to Michael about this at all. Sure, he seemed to be perking up, but it had only been four days since he’d killed Ray and he’d spent most of that time asleep. Now that he was more cognitive, Ryan didn’t know how he was going to react to things.

“Ramsey. Who the fuck is this dude, though? Like, he runs a business? So that makes him an assassin or something? _Fuck_ Ramsey, what the hell does he know?” He sounded personally offended by Geoff Ramsey’s mere existence.

Ryan shrugged, chugging the last of the water bottle he was drinking. “I don’t know, that’s the problem. Besides the bits that Gavino could dig up for me, the guy is a mystery. He’s super private and hardly ever leaves his home, doesn’t let people come over… _nobody_ knows what the place looks like inside, it’s a damn dead end. I need more information before I can do anything.”

Michael frowned, but he didn’t say anything in response. He’d been doing that a lot. Instead of voicing his opinion on something like he normally would, he withdrew. Even his posture had changed. Where he used to be all sweeping gestures and open arms, now he was hunkered in, making himself as small as possible. It wasn’t that Ryan expected him to be completely unaffected, he wondered just how bad things actually were.

“You okay?” Ryan asked cautiously.

“Fine,” Michael spat, dropping the sandwich on the plate, forgoing the ruse of eating altogether. “Gonna go lay down.”

Ryan started to get up. “Do you nee-”

“I _said_ I’m _fine_ ,” Michael stressed, the displeasure clear in his tone. Ryan sat back down as the brunette left the kitchen. He knew better than to take it personally. It was completely normal behavior for someone who had gone through what Michael had. But all the medical and psychological knowledge in the world couldn’t ease the ache in his chest right now. He wanted to help Michael in any way possible, but he didn’t know what he could actually _do_ for him at this point. Things were going to get worse before they got better.

 

Ryan raised his eyes from his computer when one of his phones rang. He was trying to do more research on Ramsey’s fortress-like home. He answered it in the usual manner - cold and unfeeling. Putting the mask of the Vagabond on was somewhat comforting after the rollercoaster of emotions he’d been on lately. 

“Mate, I’m getting worried,” came Gavino’s voice across the line, sounding completely disheveled. Ryan had never heard the man sound anything but pleasant and eager. He was instantly on edge.

“What’s going on?”

“There’s shit circulating about Mogar... everybody knows his identity now and they’re digging in hard, Vagabond. They really wanna find him. And your name is being thrown about too. People know you’re helping him.” 

“Shit,” Ryan sighed, rubbing his face. He knew it was only a matter of time, but he was hoping that time was going to be a bit longer. Michael needed time to rest, to regain his bearings, and this was going to give him anything but that. “Do they know who I am yet?”

“ _I_ do, but that took me years and only because Mogar was outed and you happened to be connected to him. You’ve hidden yourself well. But they’ll find you soon enough. Which means-”

Ryan nodded even though he couldn’t see him over the phone. “They’ll find Mogar too. Yeah I know. Look, Gavino-”

“Gavin. I… I think it’s only fair, since I know who you are now and everything,” Gavin replied, sounding sheepish, like it was a bad thing that he was good at his job.

“Wait, _seriously_? That’s your cover? Add an ‘o’ to the end of your real name?” Ryan asked exasperatedly. It wasn’t the most important thing for him to be worrying about right then, but his over-worked brain couldn’t help but latch onto the ludicrousness of it.

“People expect it to be more complex than it is. It’s a good cover,” Gavin said and Ryan could actually hear the shrug in his voice. 

“I-I guess that’s actually true. Well, Gavin, I will pay you whatever it takes to hold them off for as long as you can. He’s still… he needs more time.” 

“Oi, don’t even worry about it. You don’t have to pay me anything, Ryan. I already told you, you’re one of my favorite clients and I’d like to keep it that way. Michael too. Just take care of him, yeah? I’ll ring you when I get some more info on Ramsey too.”

Ryan had never even met Gavin before. He’d been working with him for quite a few years, but they’d never seen one another face to face, just had short conversations on the phone exchanging information. He would find the gesture touching if Ryan could actually trust him. Sure, he had been over-supplying Ryan with information on Ramsey, but that didn’t mean that Ramsey wasn’t feeding him large bills on the side, telling him to keep Ryan placated. Gavin seemed like a nice guy, but he knew better than to trust someone he didn’t know. “Thanks, man,” he said easily and hung up. 

If Gavin was in Ramsey’s pocket, then they were even more screwed than he previously thought. It meant that Ramsey knew who Ryan was which meant he knew where Michael was and it was only a matter of time before the rest of the hitmen came to Ryan’s place to finish off what they’d started. And probably come after Ryan now too for harboring him. It was a fucking mess.

He heard footsteps in the hallway and looked up from the computer. It took him a few seconds to really register what he was seeing, but his mind cleared of fog quickly enough for his flight or fight response to kick in. “ _Michael_?” he asked tentatively, standing up slowly from the table, trying not to spook the man who was walking toward him.

Michael stared intently at Ryan, holding a pistol in both of his hands, pointing it directly at Ryan’s chest. His hands were so steady on the metal that it worried Ryan. There was no way in hell he’d be that collected after everything he’d gone through. Something wasn’t right. “I have to do this,” the brunette said quietly, his voice barely reaching Ryan’s ears.

“You have to do what, Michael?” Was he even aware of what was happening? Did he know what he was holding? Maybe if Ryan talked to him long enough, he’d realize. For all he knew, Michael could be sleep walking.

“I have to kill you,” he responded, his voice wavering some. He walked into the kitchen, blinking in the brightness of the overhead light. 

Ryan shook his head, held his hands out in front of him in defense, but otherwise he didn’t make any movements. “You don’t have to do that, Michael. No one is making you do anything.”

“Don’t make this harder than it already is,” the younger man responded, his face contorting in distress. “I don’t wanna do this, but… but you know who I am. I-I _have_ to kill you.”

The blond blinked, trying to process that. Why would Michael want to kill him for knowing? “Michael? You know who I am too. We’re equal here, you and me, there’s no reason for you to worry about me knowing because I wouldn’t tell-”

“Don’t lie to me, Ray!” Michael screamed, his face turning red in his anger. It finally dawned on Ryan what was happening. Michael wasn’t even talking to him, wasn’t even _seeing_ him. He was reliving - or having some sort of nightmare - about Ray. Fuck. “You were my best friend and you told them who I was! For money! You think I want to fucking kill you? You’ve signed my death warrant, Ray, all for a few thousand bucks in your pocket! Is that all my life is worth to you? I thought we were fucking _friends_ , goddammit!” 

His eyes were swirling with torment. He was so angry and in so much _pain_ that it physically hurt Ryan to watch him and not be able to do anything. Michael clutched at his head with both hands, the grief overtaking him. The gun was pressed against his temple in a loose grip which was Ryan’s only chance to disarm him. He lunged forward and grabbed it from Michael’s hand, clicking the safety on and dropping the clip out before setting them on the table. Michael hardly resisted as Ryan folded the younger man into his arms. “Shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay, you’re right here, I’ve got you.” Ryan cooed in his ear, holding Michael’s head to his shoulder and rubbing his hand through the brunette’s hair. 

Michael started crying against Ryan’s shoulder, his arms latching tightly around his waist. He must have been present now, which was a good thing, even if the uncontrollable sobbing wasn’t necessarily positive. He cried for a good ten minutes in the middle of Ryan’s kitchen, encircled in strong arms, until the shaking and the tears started to subside and his embarrassment kicked in. “Fuck,” he groaned.

“It’s okay,” Ryan said instantly, not caring at all how it might look.

But Michael cared. He pushed off of Ryan, shaking his head. “No, it’s _not_. Are you fucking stupid? I could’ve killed you.”

“You didn’t,” Ryan replied simply. 

Michael narrowed his eyes. “That doesn’t make it better, asshole.”

“From where I’m standing it does,” Ryan sighed. He didn’t want to argue with the other man; it certainly wasn’t something Michael needed. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. Do you know what happened?”

“I just tried to murder you, that’s what happened,” Michael said dryly.

“Michael…” 

“Ryan…” Michael mocked him, putting his hands on his hips for even more emphasis. 

The blond didn’t respond. He knew Michael was trying to bait him and he wasn’t going to cause him more stress than he already had by fighting with him. 

“What, that’s it?” Michael goaded, stepping closer. “Smart ass Ryan has nothing else to say on the matter?”

“Michael. I’m sorry about Ray...” Ryan began, but that wasn’t what Michael wanted to hear.

“Don’t fucking talk to me about Ray,” he spat viciously, his eyes wider than before. “Ray’s dead. There’s nothing to fucking talk about.”

“I just want to help you,” Ryan tried, feeling more helpless than ever. 

“And I don’t need your fucking help. I’m not your little charity case. I’m not here so that you can make yourself feel better because you killed your boyfriend and you can’t get over it so you think ‘helping’ me is gonna fix you. Just fuck off, Ryan.” Michael said coldly, nothing but displeasure on his face as he pushed against Ryan’s chest and then walked back into the bedroom. The only consolation in all of this was that he was smart enough not to leave regardless of how angry he was right now.

Unfortunately, knowing that Michael was safe right now didn’t take the sting off his words. They hit at all of Ryan’s insecurities, making him second guess all the decisions he’d been making the past few days. Maybe he shouldn’t have let himself fall into all of this. No, he was being stupid; Michael was traumatized, he didn’t mean everything he was saying. Right?

A phone buzzed on the table and roused Ryan from his thoughts, only serving to fuel his annoyance. He opened it with a hasty, “ _What_?”

“Oh. Is that how you’re greeting your potential employers now?” The voice was familiar. If he hadn’t been spending so much time researching the man, he might not have remembered, but as it was, he recognized Ramsey’s voice from the night when he hired Ryan to kill Burnie Burns. Ryan remained silent, waiting to see what he wanted. “Oh, are you giving me the silent treatment now, Vagabond? That seems childish.”

“What do you want?” Ryan huffed, trying to keep his voice level. 

“We both know what I want. Though before we get to that, I really have to ask - why are you helping him?” he sounded amused more than anything else.

Ryan didn’t respond, though he was pretty sure Ramsey didn’t expect him to. 

“He’s not nearly as good as you are. Sure, he’s got some of that natural talent and his price is decent - let’s face it, I only hired him because I’m fucking cheap - but he’s wet behind the ears. Are you taking him under your wing? Trying to show him the way it’s done?”

“Is there a point to this?” Ryan asked, trying to sound bored.

“Just trying for some polite conversation. But fine, if you want to talk business, let’s talk business.” He heard something tinkling on the other end of the line - ice cubes in a glass. “I like you, Vagabond. You’re good at what you do. You get the job done, zero fuck-ups, and you deserve the name that you’ve made for yourself. Your the type of person I like working for me. Someone I know I can rely on. 

“Michael Jones, on the other hand, is not good at his job. He caused me a lot of undue stress when he failed to kill Burnie. It was a mess that I didn’t like having to clean up after. I don’t like messes, you see, they cause distractions for my employees and distractions decrease productivity. Distractions have to be eliminated; Michael Jones has to be eliminated.”

Ryan clenched his fist, his teeth grinding together. He wanted so badly to strangle the life out of this man. Every word from his mouth made Ryan hate him that much more.

“I don’t want to have to go through you to get to Michael. I know you’re hiding him and I won’t pretend to entertain any notions as to why, but I’m being straight with you here - I want you alive. If you give him up, then no harm done. We can continue to work together in the future and everyone wins.”

“Everyone except for Michael,” Ryan hissed.

“He was never going to make it out alive. The only question now is if _you_ will. I just can’t fathom wasting a good hitman, Ryan.” Ramsey made a noise of feigned surprise. “Oh, I guess the secret’s out.”

Ryan sneered, not at all surprised that he knew who he was. “If you want him, come and get him yourself, you prick. I’m ready to kill you.”

Ramsey tsk-ed into the phone. “What a waste,” he said. “Very well. I hope you’re ready to watch your little boyfriend suffer in agony. We’ll make sure you’re there to watch every excruciating detail until you’ll want to kill him yourself just to put him out of his misery. Almost poetic when you think about it.”

Ryan threw the phone against the wall, watching as it shattered into pieces from the impact. He shouldn’t have let himself be provoked that far. Hot tears were stinging his eyes and he swiped hard at his face, willing them away. He couldn’t do this, he didn’t have the luxury of falling apart, not when Michael needed him now more than ever. 

He padded down the hall into the bedroom and slipped into the bed, willing his erratic heartbeat to settle in his chest. Michael scooted over to him, pressing his face into Ryan’s neck and grabbing his hands tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered quietly.

Ryan slid his feet in between Michael’s and pulled the man closer still. “It’s okay. We’re gonna be okay.”


	5. i fear my back might break if i don't leave today

Michael slipped as silently as he could manage out of the bed, gingerly moving Ryan’s arms off of him. He was pretty lucky that Ryan hadn’t slept much as of late and seemed to be out cold. He just snorted a little and curled in on himself. 

He’d been a burden on Ryan long enough. He needed to face reality. People wanted him dead and the longer he stayed at Ryan’s, the more dangerous it became for the other man. As much as he didn’t want to admit it to himself, it wasn’t just from those out there hunting him either. He was erratic, he couldn’t control his emotions right now. Everything was blurry and confusing to him at times and he couldn’t stop having nightmares about Ray - it was nearly all he could think about. 

Ray’s face as the bullet entered his temple, the way the light left his beautiful brown eyes when his brain was impacted. When he took his very last breath. The way he had been pleading with Michael to save his life and Michael hadn’t thought twice about it. He already knew the second he set foot in that apartment that he was going to kill his best friend, it hadn’t even been a question of ‘will he or won’t he’. 

He shook the thoughts away and gathered what little he actually had at Ryan’s place and then took one of his guns. He had no idea if his store or his apartment had been ransacked, though he figured they probably had at this point. He couldn’t take any chances. He had to have _something_ to defend himself with. The shotgun in Ryan’s gun cabinet would work just fine. 

Michael couldn’t help but take one last look at the blond sleeping with an almost peaceful look to him on the bed. He’d worked so hard to shelter and care for Michael, even when Michael was being a dick to him. He deserved better. “Thanks, Ryan,” he whispered quietly before he left the apartment and headed back for his own. He didn’t know what he’d find, but it was time to grow the fuck up and face it head on.

 

Ryan woke with a start, his limbs tense. He was jumping out of the bed before he really registered why he was on edge - Michael was gone. Obviously he wasn’t in the bed, but somehow he could already tell that he’d left the apartment. He had a phone to his ear even before he’d wiped the sleep from his eyes.

“‘Lo?” the tired voice on the other end answered.

He pressed the speaker button and threw the phone on the bed while he tugged a shirt on over his head. “Gavin, look. I don’t really know if I can trust you-”

“Oi!”

“-but right now, you’re all I’ve got. Michael’s gone, I think he went back home. I need you to send me his address, then I need you to go check his store just in case he went there instead. If you’re serious about wanting to help us out, then do this for me and I’ll help you get out of whatever shit flies at you from Ramsey. Deal?” Ryan sat on the edge of the bed, tying his boots as he finished his spiel. 

“I’m on my way. I’ll text you the address,” Gavin replied, movement on his end of the line as well.

“It goes without saying, but make sure you’re armed,” Ryan added before hanging up. It was then that he noticed it was almost four a.m. He didn’t know when Michael had left, but he hoped it hadn’t been very long ago.

Ryan went to his cabinet to stock up and noticed his shotgun was missing. It must be Michael’s weapon of choice. He grabbed an SMG, a pistol, and a pretty wicked looking machete that he favored over most guns when it was an option.

He was on his way out the door when Gavin texted him Michael’s address. He just hoped that he wouldn’t be too late.

 

Everything was quiet in his apartment. Nothing looked out of place. He wasn’t stupid enough not to know it was suspicious. They’d probably already come through and searched the place; he wouldn’t be surprised to find his weapons cabinet ransacked. First he needed to make sure he was _alone_. 

With the shotgun loaded and out in front of him in shaky hands, he made his way quietly around his apartment, checking every nook and cranny for a hidden assassin. No one seemed to be lying in wait for him, so he eased off a little and checked his cabinet - it was indeed empty of all his valuable weapons. All that remained were a few stray throwing stars and a calling card left behind by whoever had broken in - a plain black card with a simple white cat in the middle. “The fuck?”

He knew of all the hitmen in the area - even if they weren’t on a first name basis like he and Ryan had been (without actually knowing it), it was impossible not to know about everyone and their work. Gavino had a big mouth, for one thing, so word got around. He’d never heard of anyone with a cat for their symbol, so this must be someone from out of town. 

Just his fucking luck. He had no clue who he’d be dealing with, which put him at a disadvantage - y’know, even more so than the fact that he had no fucking weapons left. Dickbags. And he was still tired as shit. He had no idea how he was going to make it through the rest of the night without passing out. He had some Red Bull in his fridge, but at this point he couldn’t trust anything in his apartment; he wouldn’t let himself be poisoned when he’d made it this fucking far. Not that he expected to make it much longer…

 

Michael jerked awake a few hours later to find he had passed out on the sofa. Everything was eerily quiet, which meant something was wrong. His hand twitched toward the shotgun that rested on the couch next to him, but someone tutted and stepped out of the shadows, stilling his movement.

“Don’t be so hasty, Michael. I wanted to talk to you first. Why do you think I waited so politely for you to wake up from your beauty sleep?” The woman that stood in front of him had a wicked sort of beauty; dark auburn ombre hair that tipped out at a fiery orange, she wore a dark leather jacket, black pants and boots, yet she hardly made a sound as she moved. 

“Who are you?” Michael asked, rubbing his face to try and make himself more alert. How was he going to get out of this one? “Are you the one that stole my weapons? Those were fucking expensive, y’know.”

She shrugged and perched on the arm of an adjacent chair. “I’m sure they were. But I couldn’t have you at an advantage, could I? My job is to kill you, not the other way around. I’ve heard what you did to the others who were sent after you. I’m not looking to join them.” She smiled so sweetly at him that if she wasn’t talking about murdering him, he’d think it was genuine.

“They weren’t even professionals. I think we both know what class you fall under,” he responded as calmly as he could manage, trying not to let his panic show. 

She touched her chest, an awed expression on her face. “Oh, well _thank you_. I’m glad you noticed. We don’t get the recognition we deserve in this field; it’s nice to be seen every once in a while for your talent rather than your _assets_ , if you know what I mean.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah sure, I guess. Female representation is always an issue in male dominated fields.” He was quiet for a few seconds before asking, “How long were you here before I woke up?” 

“Mmm, about twenty minutes. I came in through your window.”

“Well see. I wouldn’t have been able to pull that off. Nothing out there would’ve held my weight and I sure as fuck wouldn’t be able to be quiet enough. So you have a great advantage being who you are - people should recognize that.” He shrugged before blinking. What the fuck was he even doing? Was he talking about gender equality in the assassin field with someone who was there to _murder him_? What the actual fuck? Since when did he even think about gender equality anyway? Jesus christ, fucking _Ryan_.

She was eying him like she didn’t quite know if he was being sincere or not. He would’ve thought the same thing if it hadn’t come out of his own mouth. And shit, he _was_ being sincere. She was good, he wasn’t going to argue it. She could probably kill him now and he wouldn’t be quick enough to defend himself. He wasn’t going to give her the tip, but it was probably true. “You’re not what I expected,” she said finally.

He laughed. “What did you expect? I’m sure Ramsey said I was an evil fucking bastard who needed to be put down, eh? Ramsey’s a fucking dick, okay, the only person who needs a bullet in the head more than me is _that_ prick.” Michael leaned back into the sofa, getting a bit more comfortable. “I might’ve fucked the job he gave me, sure, but I’ve done pretty well besides that. I’m not the best, but I’m better than some of the assholes out there. So what kind of dick sends glorified security guards to kill a hitman? Tell me that? Someone who doesn’t give a flying fuck, that’s who. He wasn’t expecting them to kill me, he was just being a douchebag who was getting us to do his dirty work for him. He wanted those poor bastards dead for some reason or another and thought he’d take them out ‘creatively’. He’s a fucking psychopath.”

She studied him carefully as he spoke. “I’m Lindsay,” she said when he’d finished, as if that somehow related to anything he’d been saying.

“Uh, okay? I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but it’s kinda not.” He waved a hand between them, gesturing the circumstance.

Lindsay nodded. “I can see why you’d say that, but what if I told you that Ramsey isn’t the only one that I’ve been hired by?”

Michael’s eyes grew wider. “What the - there are _more_ fuckers that want me dead? What the actual fuck? What did I fucking do to this other prick then?”

“No no, I was only hired to kill you by Ramsey. However, I was also hired to kill _Ramsey_ -”

Michael and Lindsay both jumped when the front door slammed open. They both had guns in their hands (Michael had no idea where Lindsay pulled hers from) and were ready to face the assailant side by side.

Ryan was at the other end of their barrels, a machete in his hand and an admonishing look on his face. “Uh…” he offered intelligently.

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Dude, what’s with the sword?” 

Ryan blinked. “What’s with the assassin?” he gestured toward Lindsay.

“Her name’s Lindsay,” Michael replied off-handedly.

“Hi!” Lindsay said brightly.

“Hi?” he replied in confusion. “What exactly is going on here?”

“Oh, I was hired to kill Michael,” she offered, still sounding just as cheerful as before.

Ryan blinked again, feeling like he wasn’t quite grasping the situation. “Right. Okay. So then what you were doing just now was…?”

“Fucking,” Michael replied sarcastically. “What the hell does it look like we were doing? We were talking before you decided to break down my fucking front door. Which, by the way, Lindsay was nice enough _not_ to do and she came here to murder my ass!” He knew he was getting worked up about something that wasn’t even that important, but Ryan always got his blood boiling. This was why he fucking _left_ , goddammit.

“I-” Ryan’s mouth gaped as he stared back and forth between the two of them. “This is really not going the way it’s supposed to.”

“Well I’m sorry, Ryan. We can’t all live by your social standards!” Michael screamed. “What the fuck are you doing here, asshole? The whole point of me leaving is for me to be here and you _not_ to be here. Should I have drawn you a fucking diagram, for fuck’s sake, dude!”

“I came to make sure you were alright…” Ryan said with uncertainty wavering his voice.

“I’m fucking _grand_ , dude! I _murdered_ my best friend, I’ve got loads of pricks who are being hired to kill me, and I’ve got some dumb shit who won’t stop following me around, trying to get _himself_ killed for me! It’s a regular SNL variety hour around here!” Michael’s head was pounding and all he really wanted to do was take a fucking nap, but he knew that he had to get Ryan to leave. 

“Michael...” Ryan said, his eyes bright blue and honest to the very core. Fuck, why did he have to be so damn open around Michael? Did he not realize how hard this was? “I’m just trying to help you.”

“I never asked you to, Ryan! I never fucking _wanted_ you to! I told you that from the very beginning, didn’t I? Didn’t I fucking _say that_?” His fists were clenched tightly, only because his hands were shaking so hard. Lindsay was suddenly nowhere to be seen - she’d either left the apartment or was just giving them some privacy. The fact that he hadn’t even noticed was a testament to how damn good she really was.

Ryan held the machete loosely by the handle at his side now, the tip dragging against the carpet. His shoulders slumped and he looked more defeated than Michael had ever seen him. The greatest hitman in the city and Michael was tearing him apart with fucking _words_. God he was a fucking prick. “Michael, please don’t do this…”

The brunette fisted his hair with both hands and it was pretty obvious how worked up he was at this point. He knew Ryan was getting the point, but he had to drive it home somehow and as much as it made him feel like a fucking asshole to do it, he opened his mouth, his voice a bit shaky but still resolute, “My fuck-ups are my fuck-ups. You’re not my fucking boyfriend, Ryan, so stop acting like we’ve got some kind of epic romance that you can’t bear to lose. This isn’t your fucking problem - _I’m_ not your problem.”

Ryan’s eyes turned stern. His hand tightened around the handle of the machete and he flipped it up against his shoulder. “You were never a problem, Michael,” he said quietly before turning and walking out the busted front doorway without another word. Michael just stared after him, feeling like he was the one who had just gotten the brush off.

“Well that was pretty harsh,” Lindsay said, standing next to him and making Michael jump. 

“Jesus, what the fuck! Are you part cat or something?”

She winked at him and suddenly the card in his weapons cabinet made more sense. “Did you just break up with him?”

Michael groaned, dropping himself heavily on the sofa. “Come on, you were listening. We weren’t even fucking dating, it was just…”

“He really cares about you and wants to help you and you don’t want to let him?” Lindsay asked, summing up all the warring feelings in one easy sentence. 

“I don’t want him to get himself _killed_ for me, is that such a terrible thing?” Wow, was he seriously talking about his failing love life with his hired-assassin?

Lindsay sat down on the couch next to him and it probably said something about his detriment that he didn’t even flinch. She could take him out right then and he wouldn’t stop her. “I know you’re trying the whole ‘push him away to keep him safe’ tactic, but he’s pretty fucking capable, isn’t he? That’s Vagabond, right?”

“That’s just it!” he lamented, throwing his hands in the air. “No one would even know that if he hadn’t gotten mixed up in _my_ shit! This is my fault! I’m gonna get him killed just like I killed Ray…”

“Michael,” Lindsay put a hand on his shoulder and he jumped, but she didn’t remove it. “The reason I was telling you about Ramsey is because I want you to help me take him out.”

He looked over at her incredulously. “What? Why?”

“Well, it’s like you said, isn’t it? He’s a lunatic and he’s throwing bodies at his problems just for fun. He needs to be stopped. And it doesn’t hurt that my employer is willing to pay a lot of cash for him to be taken out of the picture.” She raised a suggestive eyebrow at him.

“That sounds well and good, but I’ve still got another hitman on my tail and there’s also Ryan…”

Lindsay laughed. “I already took care of that.”

“Of what?”

“The other hitman. He was here the first night that I got here and raided your cabinet.”

Michael blinked. “You murdered my other hitman.”

“I wasn’t going to let him collect on the reward, now was I?” Lindsay smiled that bright smile at him again. “Shouldn’t you be thanking me right now?”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, I guess. Very thoughtful of you.”

“I try. So what about Ryan?” she asked, popping open a beer that had obviously come from his fridge and taking a long drink. 

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m pretty sure he’s still going to try to kill Ramsey himself, hire or no hire. Ramsey said he’d go through Ryan to get to me and Ryan basically told him to fuck off so now he wants us both dead.” 

Lindsay tilted her head to the side. “Well, that sounds like another reason for you to help me out. The sooner we get rid of Ramsey, the sooner you can go apologize for being such a huge dick to Ryan.”

“Wha - who said I was gonna apologize?”

“Well, did you ever plan on getting laid or what?” she smirked, rolling her eyes at him.


	6. come pick me up, take me out, fuck me up

It wasn’t until Ryan was sitting on his bike that he checked his phone to find three missed calls and remembered that he’d never spoken to Gavin before getting to Michael’s apartment. He quickly called the number, that eerie feeling of displeasure filling the pit of his stomach.

“Gavin?” he asked when the phone line picked up but no one said anything. He could hear labored breathing through the receiver. “Are you alright?”

“H-help…. me…” the Brit’s stuttering voice came through in quiet gasps. 

Ryan slammed on the gas, taking off toward Michael’s shop, not even sure that Gavin was still there. It was the place to start, if nothing else. “Don’t fucking die on me, asshole,” Ryan muttered into the wind.

It was uncomfortably quiet outside Michael’s store when he pulled up. The front of the store was still shuttered by metal bars, so Gavin must have gone in through the back. Ryan rushed toward the side door, gun at the ready, not at all certain what he was going to find inside.

As soon as he rounded the corner toward the front of the store, he found Gavin lying flat on the ground on his stomach, blood pooling around him from three nails embedded into his back and thighs. “What the-” Ryan started, but he knew he had to get the man taken care of or he’d bleed out so he got to work, snatching the first aid kit from where it still lie on the floor when he found Michael. “Alright, Gav, we’re gonna get you fixed up, just hold still okay?”

Gavin blinked slowly at him, but gave him a sluggish nod. At least he was still cognitive. As he padded the wounds around the embedded nails, he looked around for the source. A tripwire had pulled the trigger on three nailguns that were set up on a nearby shelf; it must’ve been a ditch effort to kill Michael if he stopped by the store. 

Ryan removed the nail embedded into Gavin’s thigh, shushing him when he protested in pain. “Just stay awake, buddy, I’ll get you fixed up.” He wrapped up his thigh tightly with gauze and then started to work on the nails in the Brit’s lower back when he heard people approaching. They weren’t very stealthy, whispering in loud voices, which made Ryan think they were probably idiots hired by Ramsey or just more of his goons. Whatever the answer, he didn’t have time to fuck around with them.

He moved silently out of the doorway and snatched two of the nail guns off of the shelf, burying himself in the low light, waiting for the men to come around the corner. 

“Do you think it’s him?”

“How the fuck should I know?”

They emerged in the doorway to find Gavin on the ground, two nails still in his back. “What the-” the first man started to say, but Ryan fired one of the nail guns and watched it slide like butter into the side of his neck. He began coughing and groaning while the other man turned to face whoever had fired with shaky hands gripping his pistol. Ryan squeezed the trigger on the second gun, the nail embedding into the man’s left eyeball. He dropped both guns and drew out his machete, slicing the second man across the throat and then stabbing the first in the chest. They both fell in a heap next to Gavin who was whimpering and trying to move away from them.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself more,” Ryan sighed, snatching a Coke from Michael’s cooler and kneeling next to Gavin. “You need to drink something.”

Gavin did as he was bid, groaning at the movement in his back. “I need to wash out my eyeballs,” he complained weakly, but the adrenaline from the men arriving seemed to be waking him up a bit.

Ryan raised an eyebrow, pulling the second nail out without warning Gavin about it. “You’ve never seen anyone murdered before?” he asked the Brit incredulously.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I bloody _enjoy_ it!” he squeaked. 

The last nail finally removed, he leaned over Gavin while holding pressure on the wounds. “I think you’ll survive. How’d you manage to get hit in the lower back?” The placement of the guns had clearly been set for head and chest height. 

“Well I tried to dive out of the way like in those action movies, didn’t I?” Gavin responded, now drinking down his Coke in huge gulps. 

Ryan blinked. “You jumped into the air… instead of just rolling to the ground out of their range?”

“Nobody does that in the movies! How was I supposed to know what to do? You think I’m in these situations on a normal basis?”

“You’re a hacker,” the blond pointed out.

“Exactly! I sit behind a screen, I don’t dive away from flying bullets from my computer chair, you twat.” Gavin turned his head and made a weird squawking sound. “I can’t believe you shot them with the nail gun. Oh bollocks, blood, blood Ryan there’s blood it’s gonna touch me help! Help me!”

He’d never been more bewildered in his life. Was this really the same headstrong guy who could hack nearly anything? He pulled Gavin easily across the floor away from the two assailants who were pooling blood beneath them. “Wait.” Ryan looked over Gavin again. “Where’s your gun?”

“Gun? I don’t own any guns! I’m a pacifist!” the British man exclaimed, like that was common knowledge.

“What.” Ryan deadpanned, feeling his head spinning already. The notion that Gavin had come here without any weapons truly boggled his mind, though maybe not as much as the other man’s declaration. “You sell us information to murder people. How the fuck could you be a pacifist?”

“So, that doesn’t make me a murderer! I help people sell drugs too, that doesn’t make me a drug addict!” Gavin seemed highly offended by the insinuation that he was in any way involved in the activities of his clients.

“You’re right. It makes you a drug peddler,” Ryan corrected.

“Bugger all - I am _not_ a drug dealer!”

 

“So what’s so special about this place?” Michael asked, looking around the office building that Lindsay had brought him to. It looked like any other company headquarters - dull and uninteresting. There was an office to their left when they walked by that was filled with computers and recording equipment, though, and he wondered what they actually did here.

“Welcome to Funhaus, Michael. This is where my employer works.” She grinned over at him and grabbed his hand. “Follow me, I’ll show you around.” 

“Sure,” Michael replied lamely, looking at his hand in hers. Did he have a choice? He felt like denying Lindsay might bring about his demise.

“So, when you were first hired to kill Burnie - that’s the guy you shot in the lungs - his company, Rooster Teeth, was in the middle of a merger with Funhaus. It was a good move for both companies, but obviously Geoff caught wind of it and that was when he hired you.” Lindsay started to prattle as she walked him around the company offices.

“Once Burnie was landed in the hospital, he met with the Funhaus crew in secret and they made certain to complete the merger before anything else could go awry. By the time Geoff hired Ryan, the merger had already taken place and assets were being shared.” She chewed her lip. “Burnie didn’t really expect to make it out alive, but he was hoping that with the help of Funhaus, Rooster Teeth would be able to stand against Achievement Hunter - against Geoff - and eventually get rid of him. If Geoff is out of the way, then Rooster Teeth will be free to reacquire Achievement Hunter and be an unstoppable force!” She clenched her fist tightly.

Michael raised an eyebrow. “How… how do you know so much about this? Generally a hitman isn’t given this much information.”

Lindsay laughed. “Geoff used to be my boss. I left before Jack did, but I knew things were uneasy and we’d have to make a move soon or everything was going to blow up in our faces. I just didn’t know it’d be this soon. Burnie had me working with Funhaus secretly so that Geoff didn’t find out I was back with Rooster Teeth. He kept me safe.”

Michael frowned, feeling guilt spill into his gut. “I’m sorry I shot him.”

“You didn’t know! You were just doing your job and to be honest, the fact that you _failed_ to kill Burnie actually gave us the opportunity to finish mobilizing. So technically we have you to thank for messing it up!” She sounded so genuine that he knew she wasn’t making fun of him, regardless of the wording she chose.

“Glad I could help?” Michael offered lamely. He didn’t like being here. He didn’t want to see the aftermath of the things he’d done. The best part about being a hitman had been that he never had to deal with the results of his actions - it was always someone else’s burden to carry. Now he was carrying all of it and the weight was beginning to crush him.

“Lindsay,” someone said from behind them and they turned around to face a dark haired man with thick, black rimmed glasses and a heavy brow. “We don’t have any tours scheduled for today.”

“Oh right! Lawrence, this is Michael!” she said brightly.

“Your mark?” he asked.

“Yup! The one and only Mogar!”

“I don’t claim to be an expert, but aren’t you supposed to _kill_ your marks, Lindsay?” the man replied dryly.

Lindsay rolled her eyes at him and pushed Michael forward a bit. “Only if it’s beneficial. This time it wasn’t. Michael’s gonna help us get Ramsey.”

“Uh yeah, sorry to intrude. I kinda took the alternative to death, if you get me.” Michael offered his hand out to Lawrence. The other man took it with a firm grip.

“So Lindsay explained our situation?” Lawrence asked, releasing Michael’s hand.

“Yeah. And I get the whole ‘you fucked us, we fuck you’ scenario, it makes total sense. But what keeps you from fucking _me_ when it’s all over?” He glanced over at Lindsay. “Most companies don’t have an assassin on their payroll.”

Lindsay shrugged. “To be fair, assassin isn’t my chosen career path. But why would we kill you? What would we gain from it?”

Michael shrugged. “I dunno. You guys are pretty keen on murdering each other so it kinda stands to reason…”

Lawrence shook his head. “No, we’re only keen to murder the asshole who murdered our boss. Ramsey is corrupt, he’s lost sight of what this company actually stands for. We’re just trying to get it back.”

“Alright, well how do we do that?”

 

Gavin looked like he was going to be fine after some healing. Ryan had stopped the bleeding and the Brit was finally able to sit up, granted he was pretty dizzy. “They really thrashed this place,” he commented, looking at the overturned shelves and merchandise all over the floor.

“Yeah,” Ryan agreed, frowning at the state of the store. He could hardly believe he’d been here not much over a week ago and the place was as normal as any other day. Now it was booby trapped and ransacked. 

“So did you save Michael?” Gavin asked, looking over at Ryan.

Save? No, he didn’t save anyone. “He’s fine,” Ryan said instead. He wrung his hands in his lap, feeling anger boil up when thinking about what had transpired between them at Michael’s apartment. He knew that Michael was still grieving and his emotions were skyrocketing everywhere, but it didn’t make it hurt less to hear Michael say those words. Maybe they weren’t dating, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t care about Michael or what happened to him.

“Are _you_?” Gavin replied, making Ryan look over at him. The question made sense, it was just a bit shocking. He and Gavin hardly knew each other outside of work related business, so it seemed odd that he’d even ask how Ryan was doing. But maybe Gavin was sincere, maybe he could be trusted. He’d come to check on Michael’s store, after all, sans weapons like a dumbass, but he’d come nonetheless. 

“I’ll be fine when we kill Ramsey,” Ryan said in a way of not actually answering. He wasn’t going to go into the situation at Michael’s apartment; he was still processing a lot of it himself. He just hoped that whatever alliance Michael had cooked up with that assassin held, otherwise he was screwed and what was Ryan going to be able to do about it?

Gavin shook his head. “When _you_ kill Ramsey, you mean.” 

Ryan snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, Gavin, that’s what I meant.” 

“Well, if you want to go to mine, we can see what other information we can find to help you do that.” Gavin smiled crookedly, cringing a little when he pulled at his back.

“Okay, pacifist, let’s do that. Here.” Ryan stood and helped Gavin to his feet.

“Tosser,” Gavin said fondly.

 

“So if the guy never leaves his house or lets people in, how the hell are we gonna manage to get to him? Ryan said it was like Fort Knox,” Michael said, his stomach doing an uncomfortable flip when he mentioned Ryan.

“The only time he leaves is for work, so we’re going to have to hit him at work. It’s the easiest way to go about it,” Lawrence responded. They were all leaning over a table, looking at blueprints and other documents.

“That’s _easier_? Don’t they have security? Doesn’t he have a bunch of goons looking out for him just in case something like this situation were to happen?”

“Yes, but they won’t be any trouble for us,” Lindsay said. “He doesn’t have the money to hire as many assassins as it would take to fend us off. Most of them are glorified security guards and nothing more. “Plus, the others at Achievement Hunter are on our side. They’ve been feeding us information and they will be helping us from the inside when we attack.”

Michael nodded. “Wait, what about that guy who left to work for Burnie?”

“Jack?” Lindsay asked.

“Yeah, can we use him? Like maybe have him pretend he’s crawling back to Ramsey, asking if he can work at Achievement Hunter again and that may be a good distraction to catch Ramsey off guard.” If they could get Ramsey distracted then maybe slipping into the building and finishing the job would be much easier.

“That… is actually a good idea,” Lawrence responded, sounding more shocked than was particularly necessary, considering he didn’t know Michael personally.

“Gee, thanks,” Michael snorted at the backhanded compliment. He and the rest of the Funhaus crew started discussing getting in contact with Jack which was when Michael started zoning them out.

“You okay?” Lindsay asked, walking up to where Michael stood, staring out of the window.

“Fine,” he said automatically. The word was beginning to lose its taste, he’d said it so many times in the past few days. He was getting tired of always getting asked that question too. How was he supposed to be okay ever again? How could he ever look someone in the eye and shoot them when all he could see was Ray’s face?

“It’s okay, y’know, to be upset. To get angry.”

“What do _you_ know about it?” he snapped harshly. 

Lindsay shrugged nonchalantly. “I told you Geoff was my boss at one point. I didn’t really choose this life so much as it chose me. I’ve killed people too, Michael, people I cared about. It’s not something you walk away from unscathed.”

“Oh okay, if you’re such an expert, then what do you suggest I do about it?” he said, the anger still heavy in his throat. He didn’t even want to be talking about this, least of all with someone he hardly knew.

“Take your time. You’re not going to get past it quickly, so don’t try and rush yourself. And don’t push away the people who want to help you, because when you finally break down, you’re gonna need them.”

He knew what she was referring to. Ryan. Ryan had always wanted to help him, even before he knew who - _what_ \- he was. He’d been there the whole time, long before all of this shit had started. Ryan was already his friend, he knew that, but he was _more_ than that. The only problem was that they couldn’t predict the future and Michael had no idea if either of them would make it out of this alive. 

With Ray gone things were hard enough. Losing Ryan would absolutely push him over the edge.


	7. love is a warm gun

“Have I mentioned this plan is rubbish?” Gavin lamented for at least the fourteenth time since Ryan had explained to him what they were going to do. They were stood on the other side of the street across from the Achievement Hunter offices going over last minute details. Which was basically just Gavin whining.

“The plan is solid, Gavin, you’re just a bitch,” Ryan stated offhandedly, looking through binoculars up at the building.

“I am not! I’m not an assassin, I don’t ever do this sort of shite!”

Ryan sighed and looked over at the younger man. “Gavin. It’s going to be fine. I’ll be watching you the whole time; I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“But what if he just shoots me in the face on the spot?” To be fair, he seemed legitimately terrified, but had still agreed to help. That said something.

“Because I’ve talked with him. That’s not his M.O. He likes to play games with people; he’s sick that way.”

“Ryan, you’re not reassuring me,” Gavin complained. 

“I’m sorry, but we’ve got to get started if we want this to work. Are you with me or not?” The blond asked seriously. He wouldn’t force the man to do anything, but he had already agreed to help. If Gavin backed out, Ryan’s plan was fucked.

“Alright…” They took one step forward before their path was blocked by two other bodies. Gavin’s face lit up. “ _Michael!_ ” he squealed more than said.

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Who the fuck are you?”

Gavin’s face fell instantly. “It’s Gavino…”

“What are you doing with him?” Michael asked, now looking at Ryan.

“He agreed to help me,” Ryan replied simply.

“Do… what, exactly?” 

“Why does it matter to you?” Ryan shot back more sharply than he’d intended. He shook his head and spoke more plainly, “What are you guys planning to do, Michael?”

Lindsay remained silent next to him, making it easy to forget she was there at all. “We’re going to finish this.”

“Michael, you shouldn’t-” Ryan started, but Michael cut him off.

“I’m _fine_. Stop telling me what you think I shouldn’t do. What is your plan?" Michael was all business at that point. 

"Gavin was going to distract Ramsey for us."

Michael raised an eyebrow. “That’s a terrible idea. He’ll get killed.”

“No he won’t. I wouldn’t let him.”

“We’ve got a better plan. Just come with us,” Michael said, turning around and walking off without waiting for an answer.

“We could use your help, Ryan,” Lindsay spoke finally.

 

The plan didn’t work. 

Instead of talking to Jack, Ramsey detained him immediately, shoving him into a small room to ‘deal with later’. The four of them watched in dismay from the security room as Jack was lead away. 

“Now what?” Ryan asked, looking annoyed.

Kdin, the employee who had been working with them from the inside, shook his head. “I don’t know what he’s going to do.” He sounded afraid.

Lindsay patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’re gonna take care of him.”

“But Matt and Jeremy…” Kdin whimpered, his voice wavering.

Lindsay pulled him into an actual hug. “We won’t let that happen to you, Kdin. I promise.”

“How?” Ryan asked. 

“We’re gonna face him head on,” she said, nodding with determination. “Kdin, you stay here.”

Lindsay was walking out of the door before the rest had really registered it. There was no backup plan, just three loose cannons and a Gavin, marching to Geoff Ramsey’s office. They seemed to miss any resistance on the way, which rang alarm bells off in Ryan’s head immediately. 

As soon as they slammed their way into Ramsey’s office, Lindsay in front, a gun fired and Lindsay made a distressed sound, grabbing at her side. 

“Lindsay!” Michael ran forward to help her, but Ramsey was there, holding a gun toward him. 

“Nuh uh. You, move over there,” he waved the gun to the right, forcing Michael to follow his order. Two large men came up from behind and grabbed Ryan by his shoulders, dragging him off to the left of the office. Gavin had somehow disappeared in the commotion and Ryan hoped he didn’t get caught and killed, wherever he’d gone. “So, Lindsay, back again? Are you the ring leader for this little… operation?” He waved at Michael and Ryan offhandedly.

“The only thing that we all have in common is wanting you _dead_ , Geoff,” Lindsay spat, holding tightly to the wound in her stomach as it dripped blood down her pants and onto the floor.

Ramsey laughed at that. “You thought marching into our offices was going to work? Oh wait, that’s right, you sent your little spy here first to try and distract me. How stupid do you think I am?”

Lindsay didn’t say anything, she just leaned against a table as her strength started to sap from the wound.

“Well, I’m glad the whole gang is here. It’ll make this easier to get done in one fell swoop.”

Out of nowhere Gavin came flying at Ramsey from behind, knocking him forward and the gun from his hands. Michael dived at it, snatching it off the floor as Ramsey slammed Gavin into the wall behind him and then elbowed him in the face, bouncing his head off the wall in a painful _crack_. 

Michael held the gun up, pointing it at Ramsey. “Get away from him!” he said and Ramsey moved away from the Brit, but he didn’t look very concerned about the tables turning. At some point during the commotion, Lindsay had disappeared from the room.

Ramsey sneered over at Michael, who was practically cowering in comparison to Ryan, who was still straining against the arms holding him back. “I have to ask - did you really not know, Michael?”

“What?” Michael spat at the other man. He held the gun out, but his hands were shaking more violently than he’d ever felt before.

Ramsey laughed, shaking his head. “Your friend. Ray? He was planning to sell you out the whole time. He knew who you were, he always knew, he was just keeping it quiet because he _loved_ you.” 

“Don’t listen to him, Michael!” Ryan shouted and one of his captures elbowed him in the ribs.

“What are you talking about?” Michael asked, looking worried. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew not to listen to this man, to do what Ryan said, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from asking.

“He was trying to be loyal to you, Michael. You were his best friend and then you started to fuck him and all his feelings got mixed up and confused; he didn’t know what to do with himself.” Ramsey took a step forward, but Michael raised the gun higher and the mustached man lifted his hands in defense. “He came to me and asked me for advice. I told him to follow his heart, of course, because I’m a sucker for romance. 

“But _then_ he figured it out. He saw what was going on between you and your new friend _Ryan_ ; he knew that you weren’t going to return his affections and he sold you out like a cheap fucking date.”

“That doesn’t even - you’re full of shit!” Michael said, confusion and hurt boiling an uncomfortable mixture in his stomach.

“Ray worked for me, Michael. He did for years. I was quite upset when I found out he had information about you the entire time and didn’t bother to tell me until it was convenient for him. Waited nearly a month, _knowing_ that you were the one who fucked everything up for us… Well, that was unacceptable. He needed to die, but I had to find a way that would be… poetic.” 

Michael’s face was sheet white, but he was more angry than he’d ever been in his life. He could feel it seeping into his veins, begging for release. 

“I wouldn’t beat yourself up over it, though. Ray was a dirty little slut who couldn’t be trusted, Michael, he absolutely deserved to die. And what better way than by your hands?” Ramsey still had that sneer on his face as he spoke, his voice content even with his own gun pointed at him.

The brunette’s rage reached a tipping point and he lunged at the other man, hands seeking for his throat instantaneously. Ramsey wasn’t a small man, nor was he weak, but Michael could see nothing but red and he overpowered him with ease. He slammed Ramsey back against the wall, fingers digging painfully into the man’s throat, forcing him down onto his knees. He couldn’t even see Ramsey in front of him, gasping for breath, all he could see was _Ray_. Ray’s bright brown eyes, his goofy smile, the way his hair would fall in his eyes when his hair got too long…

Michael surged backward, releasing Ramsey’s throat. The older man gasped for air, looking in shock at the younger man in front of him. He’d wanted Michael to lose his cool, but he hadn’t expected that much force. It was written all over his face. Michael lifted the gun again, pressing it harshly into Ramsey’s forehead. His hands were still shaking, but not at all like before. “You don’t deserve to live,” Michael forced himself to speak, though his voice quivered. 

“I’m not your enemy, Michael!” The businessman said, voice rising almost two octaves. “ _Ray_ was-”

“Don’t say his name! Don’t you fucking say his name, you disgusting prick! You know nothing! You don’t know a fucking _thing_ about him, you goddamn ass fuck! Fuck you! _Fuck you!_ ” Michael was shouting at him, his whole body trembling under the weight of his anger and disgust. All he needed to do was pull the trigger and it’d all be over. Kill this cowering pile of dogshit and no one else would be coming after him; he’d be free and clear. And all he had to do was pull the trigger.

He grit his teeth, squared his shoulders, spread his legs apart more to balance himself and shoved the gun more painfully into the man’s head. His finger hovered over the trigger - just one little squeeze and everything would be fine…

But he was paralyzed. He couldn’t get his finger to put pressure on the trigger, he couldn’t get his lungs to bring in more air, he couldn’t get his eyes to focus correctly. In the darkness of his mind he was back in Ray’s apartment, shoving a gun into Ray’s hands and telling him to fucking shoot him already, calling him a coward for not doing it. And then he had the gun against Ray’s head, asking him if he should shoot. Ray didn’t want him to, Ray didn’t want to die, but Michael blew his fucking brains out. He’d _murdered_ his best friend.

“I-I…” he stammered, his voice sounding far away. It was like the words were being shoved into his lungs and and up his throat - a slimy, disgusting ball of regret propelling them from behind his lips. “I can’t…” he cried and his vision was nearly blotted out by the wet tears that were pouring from his eyes. He was sobbing, he didn’t know when it had even started, but he couldn’t stop now. His shoulders were shaking and he could hardly stay on his feet anymore. He kept trying to speak and garbled nonsense dribbled out instead. He tried and tried to form a sentence, but he could only manage one word. “ _Ryan_.”

That was all he needed to hear. Ryan slammed the heel of his boot down on the foot of the man to his left who jumped and immediately let go of him. He lifted his elbow up and shoved it into the other man’s throat painfully, knocking him off-center enough that Ryan was able to slip out of their grip and _run_. 

One of the men tore after him, but Ryan didn’t falter. He heard a noise and then the man behind him screamed and fell forward, landing on his face. Ryan didn’t bother to look, he just thanked whatever luck he had.

Ramsey had already figured out that Michael wasn’t a threat. He grabbed the gun barrel against his forehead and pulled hard, yanking it from Michael’s shaking grip. The brunette staggered back, but Ramsey reached out and snatched at his ankle and pulled, dropping Michael to the floor in an instant. He crawled over, looming over the smaller man, and pressed the gun into Michael’s neck. “I’ll just kill you _myself_ ,” he gritted out, slamming his other elbow down into Michael’s ribcage with enough force that he cracked at least two of them. Michael tried to double over but Ramsey clamped his fist around the man’s neck tightly, his eyes enraged.

“Get your fucking hands off him!” Ryan growled a second before he was plowing into Ramsey from the side, wrapping his arms around the man in a tight grip, slamming them both against the nearby wall away from Michael. Ramsey pulled the trigger on the gun at some point in their tussle and Ryan felt the bullet tear through his thigh painfully, but he ignored it. He pulled Ramsey up by the throat and slammed his back into the wall, the gun falling from the man’s grasp and firing off another shot as it hit the ground. 

The Vagabond saw nothing but his target in front of him, another life to end. He tightened his grip around the man’s throat, the world falling away from him as he began choking the life from his mark. 

Warm hands pulled at his shoulders, words were being shouted in his ears, but he was already gone. He had to finish the job. Suddenly something struck him painfully on the side of the head and he blinked as his eyesight went temporarily white and he was pulled backward by strong arms. 

“Ryan!” Michael screamed again, pulling the blond away as Lindsay took his place, one hand on her ribcage, pressing against her wound. 

“Lindsay was shot!” Gavin announced unhelpfully, his face pale. He was holding a fire extinguisher in his hands and a man lay unconscious next to him on the ground. 

“I’m fine,” she gritted, shoving the shotgun she held in her other arm firmly into Ramsey’s ribs. “I”ll take care of this. You guys _go_.”

Michael was still holding Ryan tightly around the waist from behind, though he was no longer struggling to get away. 

“We’re not just leaving you!” Michael countered. He moved to Ryan’s side and took some of his weight on his own shoulders. 

“This is something I need to do, Michael. Now get the fuck out of here!” Lindsay shouted back toward him, though she never took her eyes from the man she had pressed into the wall.

Ryan was losing blood and Michael wasn’t having the easiest time supporting him with broken ribs. They needed to leave, but Lindsay…

“I’ll help her, just go!” A large, bearded man stepped into the room with an axe thrown over his shoulder. Jack looked absurdly like a lumberjack. 

Some of the other members of Achievement Hunter that Lindsay had told them about were filing into the room now and he spotted Lawrence amongst them. They’d take care of her. He nodded and turned, hobbling his way from the office as he supported Ryan and Gavin supported Michael. They loaded into the elevator and just as the door closed behind them, Michael heard the reverberating noise of a shotgun firing.

 

“Stop squirming,” Michael chastised as he cleaned the wound in Ryan’s leg. Ryan usually tended to his own wounds, but Michael had insisted that he take care of it. 

“You should be resting,” Ryan commented, again, for the fifth time in the last ten minutes.

“Shut up,” Michael said easily, though his voice was lighthearted. “I’ll shove one of those pills down your throat if you don’t stop bitching. Or I could just let _Gavin_ fix you up.”

The man in question was huddled on the sofa making gagging noises intermittently as he watched Michael dig into Ryan’s thigh.

“No thanks,” Ryan shook his head, a small smile on his face. “Have you found the damn bullet yet? Maybe I should-”

“I swear to god, Ryan, if you don’t shut up I will knock you the fuck out,” Michael breathed, his annoyance evident though he didn’t actually get angry. “Thanks for helping me,” he said quietly, the change of subject softening his voice.

“Of course.”

“No, I don’t mean back there, I mean… everything. Everything you did for me, even when I was fighting you the whole time.” Michael lifted his head up so he was looking directly into those blue eyes. “Just… thank you.”

“It was my pleasure,” Ryan smiled fondly.

They stared at each other for a few minutes before Michael forced out a laugh. “Pfft, your _pleasure_? You kinky bastard.”

Ryan snorted at that, shaking his head as Michael broke eyeline. They both breathed out in relief, like the eye contact had made them breathless.

“Are you done yet?” Gavin whined from the sofa. 

Michael groaned. “Just go home, Gavin!”

“But _Michael!_ I’m injured too!” He sounded like a little kid.

Ryan just shook his head. “He wants you to like him.”

“Why would he want that?” Michael asked incredulously.

“Not for your intelligence, that’s for damn sure,” Ryan laughed and Michael shoved at his shoulder with a grunt.

 

Lindsay called them a while later to let them know she was alright and that they’d have to meet up later to talk. Michael wasn’t sure what that meant, but he just shrugged it off, glad that she was okay.

Gavin left after a few hours, leaving Ryan and Michael alone again. “How are you feeling?” Ryan asked.

Michael sighed, pressing himself deeper into the couch cushions, the oversized hoodie he wore making him feel a little more secure. “Like an asshole. A big, dumb fucking asshole.”

The blond raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond, knowing that Michael wasn’t done speaking yet.

“I should’ve listened to you in the first place. I never should’ve killed Ray. It fucked me up, dude, I can’t - I can’t stop dreaming about it and thinking about it and when I held that gun against Ramsey’s head all I could see was fucking _Ray_. I can’t get him out of my head.” Michael tugged at the ends of the sleeves.

“I’m sorry, Michael.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about. Look at me! I’m completely losing it! I can’t even _kill_ anymore, Ryan, that’s my fucking _job_. It’s what I do.” He wouldn’t look at Ryan while he spoke, but the fact that he was speaking at all was important enough.

“Well, maybe it doesn’t have to be,” Ryan noted.

“What are you talking about?”

“You don’t have to keep this up, Michael. No one is forcing you to be a hitman. You have a store, an entirely different life. All you have to do is walk away.” Ryan was looking at the curly haired man from his perch on the sofa next to him.

Michael turned and met his eyes. “Why didn’t you walk away?”

Ryan averted his gaze, looking down at his hands. “I… I didn’t know how to. I couldn’t - I couldn’t find a better reason to get out of bed in the mornings. It was something I was good at so I just… didn’t stop.”

Michael remained quiet for a while, his face thoughtful as he processed that information. Eventually he asked, in a quiet voice, “Do you think that I can move past it?”

Ryan placed a hand over Michael’s and squeezed it. “Of course you can. You just need some help.”

“Will you help me?” he asked, looking at Ryan hopefully.

“I’ll do whatever I can, Michael. I promise.”


	8. i am gunnin for you

When Michael saw the state of the store, his heart dropped into his stomach. “They’ve completely fucked me,” he said quietly, wading through the broken discs lying all over the floor. “How am I supposed to come back from this? I don’t have the money to replace this stock and still hope to gain a profit. Some of this shit was nearly priceless!”

Ryan chewed on his lip. “We can figure something out, right? There’s got to be a way…”

Michael shook his head and kicked the wall, hard, goring a hole into it. “Fuck it. Fuck them. Fuck this _place_ , goddammit!”

The blond walked up to him, placing his hands on Michael’s shoulders and pulling him back into a hug, the brunette’s back pressed firmly into Ryan’s chest.

“What are you doing?” Michael asked weakly, but he didn’t try to fight off the attention.

“Trying to calm you down,” Ryan said pointedly. He wrapped his arms around Michael’s waist and held him firmly. They stood like that for a while, Michael leaning back into Ryan, his breath coming out easier the longer it lasted. Ryan rubbed his fingers lightly against the younger man’s stomach as they waited. “Is it working?”

Michael sighed and nodded. “Yeah.” A few moments later he muttered, “Sorry.”

Ryan let him go and walked around to face him. “You don’t need to apologize, Michael. I told you I understand because I _do_. And I’m gonna do everything I can to help you.”

Michael’s eyes grew mischievous. “Everything?”

Ryan didn’t like that look. “Within reason.”

“Hmm. Whose reason?”

“Definitely not yours,” Ryan shook his head in slight amusement. “C’mon, we’re supposed to go meet Lindsay.”

“I wanna talk more about this reason of yours, though…”

 

Lindsay asked them to meet her at the Funhaus office. When they arrived she was sitting in a chair in Lawrence’s office, grinning like a loon.

“Hey boys,” she waved.

“So what’s the big emergency?” Michael asked, hovering close to Ryan.

“No emergency, just a proposition,” Lawrence explained as another man walked into the room that Michael had never seen before. “Michael, Ryan, I’d like you to meet the CEO of Rooster Teeth. This is Matt Hullum.”

Matt walked around and sat on the edge of Lawrence’s desk, eying the two men standing at the edge of the room. “Thank you for helping us take care of our… problem,” he nodded at them both.

“So what now?” Michael asked, ever so subtly moving so that his arm was pressed against Ryan’s. It made him feel safer. “You gonna ‘take care’ of us?”

Lindsay rolled her eyes and Michael felt Ryan’s hand twitch against his own, like he was signaling him to be on alert and that he had Michael’s back. 

“We’re done with that lifestyle,” Matt stated simply. “It died with Geoff and we’d like to keep it that way. But we want to offer you something for your generosity.”

“We don’t want your money,” Ryan huffed.

“Speak for yourself,” Michael stated, turning his head slightly to look at Ryan. “I’m fucking screwed, my store’s gone under - I _need_ the money.”

“Well, that’s actually what we wanted to talk to you about, Michael. Achievement Hunter’s main focus was video games and internet entertainment. We’d like to offer you a job there.” Matt nodded at Ryan as well. “We’d like to offer _both_ of you a job.”

Michael hardly took a second to think on it. “Fuck yes! Play video games and talk about shit? I can absolutely do that!” Sure, he needed the money, but the truth was that it was a ticket out of killing for a living and he was going to take it. It didn’t hurt that it was doing something he actually enjoyed. 

“Ryan?” Lindsay asked. “You’ll be working with me, y’know. I’m headed back to AH now that Geoff is gone.” 

“Sweet!” Michael smiled, a genuine thing that made dimples show on his cheeks. He really liked Lindsay; he could see them working well together.

“I-I don’t know. Can I have some time?” Ryan said softly, looking between the other three.

“Of course, take as much time as you need. We didn’t really expect you to answer right away.” Matt nodded. “Oh and do you have a way to get into contact with Gavin? We wanted to extend the offer his way as well.”

“Yeah sure, we’ll let him know,” Michael said. He had a feeling Gavin might say yes just because Michael did. He wanted to be annoyed by it, but it was kind of nice to see someone interested in being his friend after everything he’d done recently. Who knew, maybe he and Gavin would actually become good friends.

 

Ryan and Michael were eating Chinese on his couch, not really watching the television playing in front of them. Michael elbowed the other man playfully to try and tug him out of the weird stupor he’d been in. “So what do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Ryan said honestly. For Michael, this was a way out, an alternate path to the one he was already walking and that was good, that was something that the other man really needed. But for Ryan, things weren’t as simple. This was his livelihood, this was who and what he was. It wasn’t an easy matter of turning around and denouncing everything he’d known for the past ten years. He didn’t really know anything else.

Michael sat his food container down and turned on the sofa so he was facing Ryan. “Alright, I’m gonna drop some truth on you. And yeah, I may be crazy-”

“You’re not crazy, Michael,” Ryan cut over him instantly.

“Yes, thanks for saying that. Anyway, so maybe I’m not in my right mind all the time right now and I’m working on that, so thanks, but I honestly think that this would be good for you, Ryan.” 

“What makes you think that?” Ryan asked earnestly.

“You know how I said that you seemed too nice to be a hitman? Well, I meant it. I know you’ve been doing this a long time, dude, but I’m not sure if your heart’s really in it. Do you get excited when a new job comes in? Do you look forward to your next hit?” Michael wasn’t patronising him, he was just asking outright.

“No,” Ryan answered without hesitation.

Michael placed a hand on Ryan’s arm. “Okay, so why are you doing it?”

“I’m good at it.”

“True, you are. You’re infamous. But do you take any pleasure in that? Knowing that you’re the best hitman in the city - does it fill you with pride?”

Ryan was starting to understand what Michael was getting at. “Not really.”

“Then walk away, Ryan. It’s okay to want to move on - you taught me that. Maybe you should take your own advice for once.” Michael squeezed Ryan’s arm. “I know that you’ve been at it way longer than I have and that it’s probably fucking scary to start over, but sometimes you just gotta take the fucking leap and deal with the consequences after.” A grin formed on Michael’s face then. “Plus, you’d get to work with _me_ and let’s face it, that’s the biggest perk of all.”

 

FOUR MONTHS LATER

“Suck my nob, you twats!”

“No one wants to do that, Gavin,” Ryan stated simply, making Lindsay snigger from her desk across the room.

“Been there, done that,” Michael commented offhandedly.

“Wait, what?” Ryan double-taked, looking over at Michael for a moment. 

“C’mon, Rye-bread, everybody gets a little experimental in their youth.” Michael grinned, shaking his head as he launched a rocket toward an incoming helicopter on his screen.

“What are you talking about?” Gavin chimed in.

“When I sucked your dick,” Michael deadpanned.

“ _Wot_.”

Ryan laughed. “Either you blew him away - _literally_ \- or he has no recollection of it.”

“Oh don’t you worry, Ryan. I rocked his fuckin’ world. He couldn’t walk straight for two days.”

“From you sucking his dick? Are you sure you did it right?” Ryan smirked, slamming Gavin’s character into a wall headfirst and killing him.

“Are you asking for a demonstration?” Michael asked coyly before he launched into a barrage of obscenities. “Gavin, you piece of fucking shit, I’m gonna _kill_ you, asshole!”

“Gavin gets all the attention. How come nobody is killing _my_ asshole?” Ryan stated with mock jealousy.

Michael snorted out a laugh. “Get fucking _wrecked_ , Ryan!” he announced loudly, shooting the other man in the back with a rocket.

“Ahh yes, that felt good,” he murmured in his low baritone that made all the fans swoon.

“You like that?” Michael goaded, walking back up to the character who had just respawned and started stabbing him repeatedly with a knife.

“Oh yeah, that’s good, Michael. Keep going.”

“Oh yeah,” Michael said in a low, suggestive voice, playing to the audience. “I’m gonna get ya.”

“Get me, Michael!” Ryan raised his voice slightly, trying his hardest not to bust out laughing.

“Mmhmm,” the brunette continued. 

“This is so pornographic,” Lindsay laughed, walking her character up to the both of them and staring. “I’m gonna watch.”

Ryan watched his health bar slowly deplete. “Don’t stop, I’m almost there!”

“Yeah? You gonna die for me, baby?”

“I’m gonna die for you!” Ryan shouted just as his character fell over. 

“Fuck yeah,” Michael laughed, unable to stay in character any longer. “Was it good for you?”

“It was amazing,” Lindsay responded before shooting Michael’s character in the face. “That’ll keep the myan shippers happy for at least a decade.”

“We aim to please,” Michael grinned.

 

Michael shoved Ryan up against the back of the front door, attacking his mouth fiercely. Maybe the whole thing had been a joke during filming that day, but he couldn’t deny he was fucking horny and Ryan’s stupid voice didn’t make things any easier. He pushed a hand beneath the older man’s shirt, roaming over his skin with searching fingers.

“Eager?” Ryan whispered against his lips, the smirk evident in his voice.

“Fuck you,” Michael growled, pressing firmly into him and sighing when he rubbed against Ryan’s thigh.

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Ryan responded in that deep voice of his. He leaned down to suck a freckled patch of skin at the base of Michael’s neck. 

Michael snorted in response, tilting his head for Ryan to gain better access. “You’re such a fucking dork.”

“Mhmm,” the blond hummed against his skin and pressed his thigh more firmly against Michael’s growing erection. The younger man moaned and leaned into it, fingers tangling through Ryan’s hair. 

Ryan bit down teasingly in the soft flesh, earning another loud moan. “Fuck Rye…”

Michael’s breathless tone sparked something deep in Ryan’s stomach. He reached down and cupped Michael’s ass before moving his hands down the man’s thighs and hauling him up, forcing Michael to wrap his legs around Ryan’s waist or risk falling. He turned them and pushed Michael against the door, his hands clenched tightly underneath the younger man’s thighs.

“ _Shit_ ,” Michael hissed, tugging a bit at Ryan’s hair and diving into his neck hungrily. “C’mon, Rye…” he goaded, rolling his hips against Ryan’s stomach.

“Yeah yeah, alright you needy little bitch,” Ryan responded with a grin. He turned and carried Michael back to the bedroom while Michael nipped at his neck playfully. 

“You’re such a dick,” Michael said fondly as the blond gingerly pressed Michael into the bed, immediately rolling his hips down into Michael’s with the new angle.

“Yeah I am.”

“Don’t ever change.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading and I hope you had fun. Sorry the ending was kinda short and quick, but it was time to put the story to bed. Anyhow, thank you for your comments and kudos, you're all very lovely!


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